Full Time Job
by Tomoe Harada
Summary: Sequel to "Part Time Job": When Jango Fett took his son on a hunt the first time, Boba took a detour with consequences. After fencing in the Battle Circle against Jango, Tomoe (OC) finds out that winning a battle doesn't win the war against a Fett. New edition of the novel-length (300 pgs) story written 2008. Includes Walon Vau, Kal Skirata & Nulls, Gilamar, Bralor, Reau & Priest
1. Chapter 1

Full Time Job

Sequel to "Part Time Job"  
>s6169814/1/Part-Time-Job

Chapter 1 - Do that which you fear most, and you will find the courage you seek.

'Glad?!' Boba screamed inwardly. He had to find his dad, make sure he was alright! They couldn't just leave him alone after all what happened? Vau busied himself with cleaning his precious blades like nothing happened and Tomoe had drawn up that invisible wall around her again. Boba tried to follow the faceless _Cuy'val Dar_ who were filing out.

"You can't stop it." Kal held him back again gently "This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with discipline and order. Jango must maintain the respect of the men." The wiry old mercenary whispered in Boba's ear.

-...-

For a time Jango was oblivious to the white corridor surrounding him, he was far too lost in the pain searing through his leg with every step he took, to his own gut wrenching sorrow that bit so hard into his soul that it literally tore him in two. His dream floated ethereally out of his grasp. At that point a chilling smile crept across his scarred face "Never underestimate a woman!"

He did the arrangements mechanically, returning to his own flat first to organize a quarter. The Kaminoans left the detail-organization of the military district as well as equipment to the staff hired to do the training, so he could settle things with minimum explanations.

Afterwards, Jango hoisted himself up from the chair and went to Slave 1. He picked up a small box with her stuff and retrieved some tools of his trade which he kept on board of his ship. Then he visited that new quarter he had picked for her. One room should be enough, since size and fixtures had not been defined in the bargain. If Cin'ciri wanted extras, she would have to ask him.

Grunting at the fresh pain, he stretched to allocate a set of simple surveillance devices in a notch well over his small obsession's reach. He took a step back to check his work, then, looking off into the distance as though he could see his quarry out there somewhere he assured himself "Lessons so hard learned are not easily forgotten."

There was nothing so bad that it couldn't have something worth-while wrung from it, and good luck was simply a matter of what you decided to do with the hand you were dealt.

-...-

"That looked like fun... I want a go as well." Instead of leaving the sergeant's training room silently, a warrior in red armor strolled over, "What happened to 'winner stays within the circle'?" he requested load enough for all to hear.

"It was about a private matter, Priest." Vau finished wrapping up the sabers and shouldered the package in a way that made clear he wasn't going to unpack it again "One that is closed now"

"I could use a little privacy..." the man tucked his helmet under his arm and grinned "and I'd prefer a wrestling match anyway."

Tomoe decided that ignoring the insolence would only egg the bully on and encourage others to follow his example. Knowing she could not leave it all to Vau, she ran her gaze slowly over unruly light brown hair, resting briefly on his eyes then continued down a hooked nose that looked a little out of place in the roundly face merging into a bull's neck. She wondered if he was as quick as wide. "We have not been introduced so far, so we can hardly have an argument over a private issue."

"Dred Priest." He picked up smoothly.

"I would be honored to meet you one day... under better circumstances." Tomoe pronounced cautiously.

"No better t..."

"Cut the _osik_." Another warrior in red armor shouldered past him. Tomoe could tell this was a female for the shape of the armor plates and thick, grey-streaked chestnut braids that fell around her shoulders when she pulled off her helmet. "I'm Rav Bralor." She extended a hand, grasping Tomoe's elbow "Nice to meet you. I suggest we get you sorted out with decent quarters now. Tomorrow's another day."

The door slid open and revealed her true opponent who gave her a quirk of his eyebrow a quick grim smile. Catching Boba in a quick hug, Jango just silently turned and left the sergeants training room. If anything he had seemed to pull back a step or two emotionally.

Tomoe fell in step beside Skirata at the end of the line as the remaining _Mando'ade_ filed out of the training room. Rav's intervention allowed her like a graceful cat to saunter quietly past whatever traditional dilemma was dropped at her feet. She felt death tired, using her remaining energy to simply listen, ignore (or smile and nod) and move on.

-...-

Jango wasted no time to introduce Tomoe to her duties on the way to her own quarter. "You will be there for Boba, keep him well feed and doing his homework while I'm at work. To those continued duties and further jobs, you'll attend calisthenics every morning. I'll pick you up at 5:15 tomorrow to assign you additional tasks. Your monthly wage is 200 credits, payable by the end of the month, free board and lodging. Here we are." The group's entry made the small one-room quarter look even more cramped as it was filled with too many people in too much armor.

'You fought hard just to exchange one prison cell for another...' a small voice in her mind mocked her 'At least it's my own and there are no eyebolts at the walls.' – 'Alone, yes... any idea how to fend for yourself in these foreign surroundings?' – 'Done that before' – 'No, all you did was retreating into a niche, but now your habitat of convenience is out of reach.' – 'Shut up.' Tomoe spotted an open box with her few belongings sitting on the small table, her knife among them.

Jango turned to leave, taking Boba's hand "Time for us to turn in."

Vau cleared his throat "You forgot something." He waited for Jango to turn around then eyed the anklet around Tomoe's slender heel, his gaze running up her long bare legs with relish.

"Not now." Tomoe backed away to the table. "Please excuse me, gentlemen, it has been a long day." She bowed slightly. She didn't want anybody to touch her now. Not when she had the means to remove the thing on her own if she felt the need.

"See you in the morning." Vau smirked and followed the Fetts to the door, but Skirata hesitated "You alright?" Tomoe nodded silently. "Fett wanted you to have this." Kal retrieved the note from a pocket of his bantha-jacket and passed it to the young woman cautiously, then turned to the exit.

Tomoe unfolded a sheet full of tables and numbers and text. A medical readout of sorts, but she had difficulties to decipher it. "Kal...? Can you tell me what this is about, please?" she held it out to him at arm's length.

Kal's eyes ran over the page "The medical readout of a healthy, pregnant female." He managed a smile of sorts.

"Ah..." she opened her mouth just to close it again. 'How dare you, Fett! ... I should have run him through when I had the chance...' her gaze caught on a gleam of the anklet and her mind jumped to 'home delivery service?' She took the document Kal returned her with neutral impression, "This..." she clenched the flimsy "is a serious breach of etiquette." ... and a serious understatement.

'Women!' Kal hunched his shoulders. "It's just about plain facts." he tried to soothe her.

"Facts that are mine to disclose." her eyes narrowed "and it is my decision that has to be respected. That's the deal."

"Tomoe, please..." He noticed her death stare had resurfaced. Who could tell where her anguish would strike next? "...for a Mandalorian, family means everything."

"I have to think about this... " Feeling a deeper hurt inside of the old warrior she cut the argument before the insults boiling on her rage could bubble over her lips. "... and sleep over it."

"Are you sure you are alright?" Kal did not like her mental withdrawal any better than her scathing, but she would say no more and saw him to the door. He sighed "Yes, think about it and don't do anything stupid... Take care."

-...-

After the door hissed shut behind Skirata, Tomoe strode back to the table. Standing in the centre of the room she clutched her knife close to her chest. At first, the black, lacquered sheath felt cool under her hands but it warmed quickly. She could feel her own heartbeat thrumming within like it was a living being. She guessed a quick stab into the innards of the monitoring anklet was sufficient to bring Fett running... to check her pulse and what not. No breach of promise in stabbing a gate-crashing intruder?

'You know what you do _not_ want, fine. But what DO you want for yourself? For the two of us? – Who says there is a WE? – Because that's the way it is. You know it... he knows it... damn him! – I can remove the HE-problem permanently. – And win... what? You have to fend for us. Remove Fett and problems like Priest will queue up all around this dome. Remember, we can't get away. – For the moment.'

Tomoe picked up the readout, looking for a date and parental identification. An estimation and the client-ID on the header didn't make Fett anything, let alone the father of her child. She folded the readout carefully and placed it inside the box. She would have to be extra careful around the genetic specialists in this place who could even clone complete humans.

'What if...?' She had to ask Vau what kind of side effects she had to expect from the filth they had injected into her. If she played it right she could get back to him in case she needed medicine without involving a cloner medic. And she had to try if she could make friends with that resolute woman from the sparring room.

Once that was cleared she went into the tiny bathroom to clean up and wash her sweat drenched clothing, hoping that her single set of rags would dry until morning. Afterwards, she tried to make herself comfortable, but she was terribly cold, with the chilly weather of Kamino and the absence of any warm, thick blankets. She pulled the thin sheet up, curled into a ball and shivered until she fell asleep with her sheathed knife clutched in her left.

-...-

Some doors away, Jango tried to tuck Boba in. The small one was wide awake and simply turned down any order to sleep. "Tomoe was so angry all of sudden... even more than the day we met... Why?"

Jango sighed, fishing for an explanation "We had a disagreement. It's closed now."

"What about?"

"She's going to have a baby. Some human females have mood swings during pregnancy. What do you think about a little brother or sister?"

Boba wrinkled his forehead, "One who is not a clone?" he tried to grasp the idea.

"No growth acceleration... you could grow up together... you would finally have a playmate... it would be more like a normal family" Jango sketched out for him. Boba wrinkled his forehead. 'What was _normal_ anyway?... Adults fighting?... uhm maybe...' but something felt still horrible wrong. Jango used the silence to figure a bedtime story, "I had an older sister, Arla..." he started telling the boy about his family's homestead on Concord Dawn.

When he finished, Boba piped up "I'd like to have a sister too... even if it's just a younger one."

"Patience. In some months time, we will know more... Go to sleep little one. We have a long day tomorrow," whispered Jango as he kissed Boba on the head then finally turned in himself.

-...-

Sometime later, Jango caught himself staring at the blank ceiling over his bed. It disturbed him to think that his attraction to her was on a deeper level beyond sex, something that he had always managed to avoid in his life. 'Missing out a lot? Load of _osik_!' All he needed was a good night's sleep and he would be alright.

What he missed nevertheless was the warmth of the slender woman pressing against his naked body combined with the fact he knew that underneath that oversized shirt was smooth, white skin and the curvy ass he had been looking for all day. Instantly, a decadent picture took shape on the inside of his eyelids.

"I don't know what you are, but for right now you are mine,"

He let his mind wander over her body as he took his pleasure into his own hands. His mind moved from the static form to the sound of her voice, thoughts of their nights in this bed. Before long he let out a gasp of pleasure as he spent himself in his hand.

His leg hurt.

The reason for the pain pressing into the foreground mercilessly, Jango sat up in the bed suddenly, panting hard and sweating. The feel of the half-conscious dream was still lingering while he looked around the room. He slowly brought his breathing under control, trying to put the thought out of his mind. He closed his eyes, trying sort out his confused feelings and to will himself to sleep.

'_Cin'ciri_.'

The more he got to know her the more he would become attached to her. Would it work the other way round? His actions towards her, from comforting her to allowing her so close to him were instinctual, and seemed so natural - despite the fact things had happened he had never done before. Jango was confused by the conflicting parts of him and it bothered the usually decisive man greatly.

Now, years after his loss it was as if the wall that Jango had built came crashing down around him to let her inside. His own rule was mocking him... Do that which you fear most, and you will find the courage you seek.

... Hah! Easier said than done.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Day 7

Without the help of a chrono, Tomoe woke before sunrise, because her body remembered old routines which were followed in Tipoca as well. She felt well rested when she padded into the bathroom to pick up her now sleeveless tunic and tie the oversized pants around her midsection with her garrote. Nobody around yet to make her morning miserable.

What a relief!

She yawned heartily and stretched before she was ready to face her reflection. Bad hair day, most definitely. Her hair would take years to grow back to its full length. On the other hand the lack of weight was a plus. But there was no need to overdo it like Vau. She tied it into a pony tail when the door buzzer went. 'Ready when you are, Fett...'

But it was Boba. The boy approached cautiously when she opened. "Good morning Tomoe... did you sleep well?" he presented his best manners.

She squatted down and invited him into a hug "I didn't think I would be able to sleep, but before I knew it I was out."

Suddenly looming over them, a thump hooked in his belt, Boba's grown-up version displayed a different attitude. "Come here, sleepy one. Get used to rise early from now on." 

"I'm ready." Tomoe stood to her feet her body all rigid determination "Lead the way, Fett." she slid her gaze from his face down to his knee. He had changed his pants, obviously, but she could make out a thick bandage underneath. Today, Jango Fett would not give her a run for her money and she made sure he knew it.

"Can you sew?" He snapped. Obviously the fact didn't slow his temper.

"Sure." Tomoe stopped her observation.

"Then you get to fix my pants before Boba comes home in the afternoon."

"...once they are cleaned and you provide me with sewing equipment." The task would hardly keep her busy that long, but her own clothing might.

-...-

The morning training made her see more of the stilt city. Her assessment on the day she arrived had not been wrong. It was not a robber's den. It was ... worse ...

Neat squares of ninety formed up in ranges that seemed to stretch to the horizon. Aside of the age difference they all looked the same, the last rows in the far back were even younger than Boba. Well organized, obedient masses, who only knew what was presented to them by their trainers. If military training was meant to strip away the individual self-perception, here the concept was pushed to the limit. Complete prevention of the development of one from the start.

'What have you done?!' She fell slightly behind to stay out of sight, remaining in Fett's wide shadow. The last thing she needed was attention to her wide-eyed shock and ragged appearance. She quickly dispersed her attention to keep a low profile, going through the same moves as all others. No wonder the place was soundproofed so well. Heaven knew what would happen if the structure went into resonance due to the synchronistic movements of the marching... and rapidly growing soldiers below. Hopefully the engineers had designed the theatre for their grown up weight.

It wasn't just big. It was megalomaniac... and in a way that did not fit in with the Jango Fett she knew. The guy certainly knew how to fill his plate, but the vast expanses of this plan did not match his compact style, his attention to detail, his lack of personal possessions that allowed him to travel light and fight hit-and-run-tactics. After all, Fett was not an emperor in need of an army to guard his palace and country or to occupy neighboring territories. If any, he was a nomad leader and an army on his own right in case of trouble.

Why would he burden himself like that?

-...-

"_Kyr ge'kaan"_ The waves of synchronized movement ceased and a short bellow echoed through the theatre, announcing the end of exercise. Without further ado, everybody took off different directions. Tomoe jumped to catch Rav Bralor as she passed her on the way to an unknown gate. There were questions she would rather not ask Fett. "Where's the bathroom, please?"

Rav looked her over. She had done well for an _aruetiise_, but it had taken its toll, sweat rolling off her and matting her hair. "There are shower rooms down the end of this corridor, but they are all occupied now." Staff had its own showers but she realized a minimum level of comfort was provided by Fett. "You can use my shower while I get ready for work."

"Thank you." Tomoe gladly accepted the invitation and followed the older woman along.

"Not enough girls around here. It will be a pleasure working with you."

"I hope I'm going to be assigned to that." Tomoe smiled back.

Bralor's quarter consisted of two rooms with a fully equipped bathroom, held in the impersonal monochrome scheme like any other she had seen. Aside of a colorful quilt folded over a chair, Rav seemed to have even less possessions lying around than Fett, but then she had no kid to entertain half of the day.

Leaving the bathroom door open, Rav shed her fatigues and proceeded into the shower. Her remarkable unlined face went with a muscle packed body that belied the stretch marks on her belly. "You are wearing armor every day, too?" Tomoe inquired while shedding what was left of her own clothing.

"Sure. No difference there." Rav shook the water off of her, then exited the shower and grabbed a towel, squeezing water from the tips off her graying chestnut braids. "You'll need a couple of plates as well in case training gets rough... and put some meat on those bones"

Tomoe chuckled "You aren't the first telling me this. I AM eating... but it seems it's all burned in the same moment." – "Jango needed his ass kicked... all you need are more proteins." – "Those food-board things?" – "Yeah." She groaned and showered in the water that was steadily growing colder. No wonder with so many people doing just the same thing. By the time she had finished and dried off, she noticed Rav had already put on her metal skin. She realized how badly she needed a change of clothing herself.

"You should have a word with Fett to provide you with some work clothing." Rav wrinkled her nose at Tomoe's socked feet in comparison with her sturdy boots. "Anyway, let's have breakfast."

-...-

Rav showed Tomoe to the mess hall, and then went to her own business. Everybody else looked clean and well provided for. Their clothes were well kept and most were well groomed. She knew little about armor, but it seemed like it fit them well and looked like they took care of it. Although the riot of colors looked like chaos, everyone seemed to know where they were going and all of them seem busily getting ready for different tasks.

How could such self-confident individuals be brought to train that child-army out there? Tomoe grabbed some food from the droid at the serving table and went to find Rav to sit down next to her. She continued to think about it as the conversation swirled around her fluently in at least two languages.

Before long Fett joined her at the table with a smile. "How's Boba's sibling this morning?"

'Don't you boost the news to your men,' Tomoe looked around extra slowly "Fine, from what I saw in training. There are so many of them, I wonder how you manage to tell them apart?"

He gave her a rather dour look, crossing his large arms over his chest. But Tomoe knew him well enough by now to know it was only his begrudging look he got when someone actually was able to out-maneuver him. "Got my note?"

"Yes, sir. I believe it was about _my_ child."

He noticed that she had found a new title for verbal distance "It's Jango and _ours_."

"Considering the public accusations you have used to take me away from my home... how can you be sure?" she smiled sweetly at him, waiting for his jaw to drop in stunned disbelief.

"I am." He smiled back smugly.

'Damn you!'... "Then bring me back home." She requested.

"No and I won't waste a thought about such possibilities, Cin'ciri. Neither should you." - "Oh," she shook her head in disbelief. "I like you the way you are." He let the information sink in, "You belong here now."

"Keep calling me that name and I'll live up to it. I respect you as the leader while I am here and I do my job, but I do not consider you a part of my private live."

"What do you want then?"

He could get the barb he was asking for. "Maybe a less _common_ face?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"Then that's all you get for now..." Jango shrugged "Meet us in the sparring room in the evening. You are going to teach Boba and me your fencing style."

No way she would hand him her only trump-card on a lacquer platter "I'm unfit to train such advanced pupils," she excused herself.

"_Udesii_... some common knowledge will make it easier for us."

Her hackles rose. She really hated that word and all it implied for her. "I taught you yesterday, in the only way an alpha male can be educated... If Boba wants to learn, I can teach him the beginnings."

"Damn it, I didn't mean it like that," but then he nodded at her proposal... 'give her a little leeway... you can get the info through Boba.'

Tomoe realized he had succeeded to wind her up in no time. She needed to recover her patience, reduce the pressure resting on her, or she would break sooner than later. "Before you learn how to handle a saber, you have to make one, Boba." Since fencing was considered a valuable knowledge here, maybe she could share her skills with a neutral side and gain a gun, shooting and flying lessons in return?

Chapter 2.1 – Bartering with Dred Priest

Tomoe spent the rest of the morning over her notepad, catching up on Boba's engineering lessons and trying to find a minimum common basis. The boy was way ahead of her when it came to energy and what was called circuits and relays. Even if she could get her hands on related information, her flying lessons had shrunk into far distance. But first things first. She would show Boba how to create and maintain a basic practice weapon with simple means and see how he would cope with that.

After lunch, Boba dropped by and she asked him to show her where the _Cuy'val Dar_ did the mending of their armor and weapons. She had expected a decent forge and was disappointed by the sparse utilities for serious metal work. Again, she would have to ask for support or retreat to wooden sticks.

"In old times, every warrior had to craft his own weapon. Especially when he was nobility, he needed to master the technical and spiritual exercise. My family, the Harada have lived by the blade for many generations," Tomoe told Boba, "It has formed our clan, cost it in blood and in the end in public recognition, but I can still craft basic things as they have always been done. This I will teach you also, and while I teach you, you are going to teach me _Mando'a_... alright?"

"Alright." Boba cocked his head to level with the workbench. She sighed and told to boy to find a crate to stand on while she searched for tools she didn't find in her box of personal belongings. All that furniture wasn't nice to children. She ended up removing the splint that anchored the handle to the blade with one of her hairpins, then went on naming and explaining the parts as she disassembled them.

"And that's a matte spot where a careless person tried to mend it using very rudimentary grindstones. Remember, always check for cracks before you start polishing on a nick... and practice before you work on a valuable blade. While the experience will make you understand your instrument, a lack of it can permanently ruin a blade by disrupting its geometry badly or wearing down too much steel."

"Is it ruined?"

"Observe the hardened 'skin': It didn't suffer too badly. I just need a couple of good grindstones and some lime stone powder." Tomoe reassembled the blade carefully, while Boba named the parts. "Now let's find some material for you to make a practice weapon."

Kal had been taken aback by somebody disturbing his few minutes of after-lunch contemplation and was glad to be basically ignored in his corner. The girl tried hard to pull her own weight and he could respect that. He gathered some material from a locker and ambled over "Try this. Can't be hardened, but will suit the purpose."

Tomoe bowed in her hips, receiving the sheet metal with both hands "Thank you."

"You are very scrupulous about your stuff."

"I take that as a compliment of a person who pays attention to detail."

"And you talk a lot."

Tomoe nodded and smiled at his scrutiny and Kal left for the afternoon exercises, then turned to lay down the basic shape together with Boba. She wondered if she went over everything too quickly, giving Boba too little time to watch, to find things out for himself so he could develop a keen observance and deep understanding.

On the other hand, she was aware of the mountain of information that was pressed upon the boy on a daily basis. There would be no playing around in the workshop under the watchful eye of an ever stoic granddad. Both of them were expected to make visible progress immediately. So she kept on explaining and invited him to ask questions while she picked up some of the scrap pieces herself.

-...-

When she felt that Boba reached the limits of his patience, Tomoe relocated to her own flat and switched to his usual homework until Jango came along, dropped the sewing-task on her and picked up his son for dinner in the mess hall.

Entering the riot of colors and chattering made her smile. Once the helmets came off _Mando'ade_ were no more silent than other peoples. For once, nobody would frown at her freshly ruined fingernails. She filled her plate and found a seat beside Rav. "So what do you do in the evening?" she inquired after a greeting to the round.

"Reviews... additional training... touch ups..." Rav shrugged "We don't get much mail or _entertainment_ around here, if you mean that."

"You forgot to mention your special medicamentation." Tomoe arched a brow at the woman in yellow armor who piped in. "Rav makes the best _tihaar_ around ... great painkiller."

"Ha ha. Ever tried to get your hands on fresh fruit on Kaminio for a decent mash, Isabet? Unless you find a way to use seaweed, we live on our reserves." Rav caught Tomoe's thoughtful expression "You never give up, huh?"

"Just interested in going new paths. I'm used to eat seaweed but I never heard of an alcoholic beverage based on it. There must be carbohydrates in it, but I guess the problem is to split the polysaccharides and find yeasts you can feed with a salty mash... how high is the salt concentration in that sea out there?"

By then, the whole table was laughing "Knock it off..." Rav stopped her "I'm not going to cultivate any more excesses around."

Tomoe grinned "I agree the taste would be more of a test of courage than a painkiller." - "See what I mean?" - "Oh yes... problem." she mouthed under her hand.

-...-

They finished dinner. Tomoe made a mental note to get used to eat more in shorter time if she wanted to keep up with the others. "Accompany me to the sergeant's room if you like." Isabet offered, "Rav can catch up with us later... don't worry, you won't have to fight today if you don't want to." she reassured her, "We do use it to spar and blow off steam, but to relax and keep in shape as well."

Tomoe fell in step beside the woman in yolk-yellow armor "I didn't get the impression that you only let the other's run this morning."

"There's always use for additional practice to stay on top of our profession." The room was sparsely populated when they entered and they sat down on a couch in the corner "So what did you do for a living?"

Tomoe realized that she wanted Isabet to respect her, but she neither wanted to lie nor betray her own principles "Entertainment, room service in a hotel and so on... nothing compared to your profession."

"Security?"

"If the necessity arose."

Isabet elbowed her gently "Don't tell me Jango Fett was knocked over by an inn-keeper."

"I was taught to wield blades for self-defense from early age. It's a cultural thing within some families on my home world. An ancient tradition that became rather superfluous with the introduction of modern weapons." Tomoe tried to explain, fully aware that any weapon the woman next to her sported was for deadly pragmatic reasons.

"Such as... bow and arrow?" Isabet teased.

"Bow and arrows are sacred weapons. Those where not covered by the moratorium. I'm talking of fire weapons."

"No fire weapons? You guys make the _jetiise_ look up to date! Everybody has blasters, slug throwers and so on... Are you sure you are from the same galaxy as I am?"

"Well, after a long phase of warring, my people settled on that rule and it made my home world a relatively safe place for centuries in which conflicts were settled differently."

"And ready for the picking for sure."

"To allow blasters would not have prevented what happened."

Isabet got them two cups of _shig_ and settled down again "Do tell..."

"_In short: aliens arrived, ignored our foreclosure and used local conflicts to gain trading influence by arming different sides. Of course it was illegal. But they simply murdered the leaders who they could not bribe... those who stayed faithful to law and traditions. It ripped the network of pacts and peace treaties apart and we learned all too quickly what modern warfare is about." _

Tomoe was aware their talk was approaching the border to the insecure territory of privacy and philosophy quickly. She produced her knife with her right hand on the sheath and offered it to Isabet for reassurance.

"_Observe, Isabet... This is a pure, a sacred weapon, forged by my grandfather, polished by his brother. It takes years to master it to its full deadly extent and at the same time it shapes your mind because you think about purpose - It kills - But it is not like pressing a button for short-term gain."_

Isabet took the weapon carefully. "No vibrofunction but nevertheless, a nice craftsmanship... I take that you had ritualized fighting a lot."

"_On a world that had banned fire weapons for centuries, blue flames brighter than the sun were unleashed. In mere seconds, they burned the gods and ripped the curtain apart between our realm and the shadow-realm. The lucky ones burned together with the sacred wards of our realm. In return, foul spirits were unleashed, so the unlucky ones took months or years to die or they are still dying. Or their children are malformed and die."_

"I don't like that particular fairytale ending." Isabet stated dryly to gulp down her discomfort. She returned the blade and offered "But then, this is not so uncommon, many _Mando'ade_ keep a weapon or armor plate around in memory of a loved one.

"I see." Tomoe nodded, put the knife away and a smile on her face. "Kal's right, I'm talking too much... let's find something to do." She stood and emptied her cup in a long swig. "Is that a board you use for throwing blades?"

-...-

"Yes... so you don't despise distance weapons for principle?"

"Not at all..." she approached the board and figured a short distance, Isabet trailing behind, her tension slowly fading "I've worked on some." She reached into her messy updo, producing a threesome of narrow darts "Let's see how they came along. I'm not quite sure about the balance..."

Isabet grinned and hooked her helmet to the back of her belt. "Not a hairdo I would copy, but I already thought those pins would have some alternative use..." She stood back carefully "go ahead."

Tomoe shock her right hand out, which was still sore from working all afternoon, then picked a dart by the handle and lifted it over her right shoulder. Inhaling deeply she stiffened her wrist, and then let it go with a snap that went from her right shoulder to her left hip. The throwing blade connected with the board and bounced back on her, slightly off to the side.

Undisturbed, Tomoe inched backwards and tried again. This time, the dart embedded with a low chunk, sharply inclined into the board. Another adjustment, another throw, a better angle. Tomoe crouched to pick up the dart that had bounced and placed it to mark the position of her right toe. Then she retrieved the other two darts from the board.

"Would you like to give them a try, too?" she offered politely.

Isabet shook her head "Right after you figured 'em, girl." She winked at Rav entering with some colleagues. Tomoe bowed slightly in her hips and placed her foot back on the position she marked. She took a long step backwards, gripping the dart by the blade and let it fly again, adjusting her position in pursuit of the sticking point.

-...-

Tomoe listened to the talk around the room, the hiss of the door, the rain pounding against the window.

Then she picked up a moment of silence that promised mischief or worse. She cast a glimpse at Isabet and Rav in the corner of her eye without breaking her present activity. She could feel somebody else's eyes between her shoulder blades. When a combat knife whooshed past her head in a half-turn and embedded in the board with impact, she didn't even flinch.

"I'm afraid there are few insects on _Kamino_ for you to pin down."

'Hurray.' She did not need to turn around to know the voice... 'Bully's back.' She emptied her hand with another quick snap. "Such a pity, right when I begin to feel inspired by local customs, you call a stop. This was just about fun... and precision."

"Oh really?" Priest swaggered past her to retrieve his knife. And indeed, it was closer to the centre than any of hers.

Tomoe smirked briefly at Rav and walked up the board as well. She stopped up within Dred's vicinity "Sure." She echoed with a smile and extracted her blades one by one, holding the first between her teeth and lower lip.

"What me to show you how it is done with a _real_ knife? I wager I'm more precise with this one than you with those pins." Dred switched from competitive to patronizing.

On the way back she asked, "You want to bet on that?" giving him a look over her shoulder. Tomoe had always stayed away from gambling unless she was employed to call the game. But this was about skills, not dices. "Not that I have a lot to wager."

"Off the mark yet again." He eyed her thoroughly from head to toe.

She raised her heel off the ground, her hand sliding down to lift the hem of her pants just a little. "Don't tell me you are infatuated with my socks. They are probably your size, but it's the only pair I own."

"I'm more interested in the sweet... regenerative contents than in the poor wrapping."

"So what's it going to be... your blaster or my kiss?" she offered smoothly.

"Just a kiss? That will barely be enough for this one." He pulled a small hold-out blaster from his boot and placed it on the nearby table.

"I wonder... how do _you_ know already?" Tomoe arched a brow, looked from the weapon to the man and commented "_Copikla_."

Rav looked from Tomoe to Dred "Obviously," she laughed her _shebs_ off.

"You know how to play foxhunt?" Tomoe offered and designated the distance.

"Sure. We start on top centre, you get two fields head start. One throw per turn."

"You catch me, I kiss you." She winked.

Dred beamed "Go ahead," he stood back.

"Third field it is." Tomoe snapped her dart into it. "Your turn." She had assumed a slightly off-centre position so she didn't need to make way for his throw.

Dred took aim and embedded his knife deeply into the top-centre field.

"Fourth." Tomoe's dart smacked into her next field right away.

On the way to retrieve his knife, Dred figured that this little woman had far less problems to hit the board than he had wagered. Her operational margin wasn't the board but probably three fields in diameter. At least she had enough respect not to grin up at him too boldly while she pulled her toys out. He had to be careful with his wide instrument on the horizontal fields, or she would be inevitably off and away. Maybe he could rattle her concentration a little...

"Why didn't you kill Fett?"

"Doesn't make sense to kill a dead person, does it?"

Tomoe checked off his point and concentrated to get the hang of her new throwing blades. And let him run twice as much. To the attentive cheers of the small audience for both sides she extended her lead from two to four fields over Dred and lost it again on the way back up, but still managed to stay out of reach... just barely. His technique was handy to throw about anything from knife to screw driver over a medium distance and score a sound hit. He had the power and the practice to adjust it. At his comfort-distance, she wouldn't have hit a barn door with that primal technique. No, there was no need to turn a gamble into an insult.

Tomoe kissed her last blade before it hit home on her starting field again. "Thank you for the game." Her bow expressed constant vigilance.

Dred had already corrected his view of Jango to prevent a loss of face. He returned her a crooked grin. "Don't mention it." He would not be a worse looser than his leader.

"_Kandosii_!" Isabet cheered and elbowed Rav into the red plates protecting her side.

Rav settled her elbow on the other woman's shoulder and grinned at Dred, "Now THAT looked like fun..."

Isabet handed Tomoe Dred's holdout-blaster "No more qualms about tools of trade, huh? Welcome to the team." She gave the new girl a pat on the back that drove the air from her lungs and the three of them stuck their heads together.

"Did you sweep your place for bugs already?"

"Bugs?" Tomoe wrinkled her forehead. – "Devices to listen... and watch." – "Uhmmm... no... it's not that I do anything I need to hide." Rav laughed dryly "Should be done at least once a week. Some people around here have no sense for privacy." – "Can you show me how to do that tomorrow?... I need to find Vau..." The name pulled two sets of eyebrows upwards. "Old psycho? You must be kidding." – "Oh... He can be quite a gentleman... and I have questions only he can answer." – "Okaaaay...cya."

Chapter 2.2 – Ask Vau

From the pathway Tomoe spotted a tall dark figure sitting on the edge of a large platform that hovered over the surge far below. She halted briefly in front of the transpari-steel double door until it acknowledged her approach and slid open to the sound of rain beating on the stream lined but unyielding surfaces of Tipoca stilt city. She pocketed her socks and took a couple of steps outside so the door could seal the corridor against the moisture and cold, but waited for Vau to notice her. It was hard to tell what he saw out there.

Mird had vanished even from the enhanced sight of his helmet but Vau preferred to not see the slim form of the woman in the doorframe until she turned back to the door. He was off duty and he certainly was not going to jump for anybody. "Wait." His baritone voice was converted by the speakers of his helmet. Without turning his head he motioned to her over with a raise of his arm and she approached. "Good evening, Walon."

"What is it?"

"I would like to hear your opinion on a medical issue."

"Go ahead." he grumbled.

"Which side effects on gestation are to be expected with the drugs injected into me the past days?"

He picked up that detached sound in her voice. "Back off." The tall man got to his feet with amazing speed, lifted her over a couple of steps before dropping her with a low grunt and towering between her and the abyss.

Once he unfolded his vice-like armored grip she landed on her bare soles with a splash and staggered back a step, staring up into the black visor hiding his face, wiping away raindrops that poured from the helmet's edge onto her forehead. "I didn't mean to startle you. Please excuse my intrusion."

He looked her over. While the seals of his armor kept him dry and warm, she looked as wet as Mird after an excursion flight around the stilt city. Was it rain or fatigue or misery? Probably all. "Let's go inside..."

"It's just rain." She stepped into the translucent doorframe and wrung the water from her pony tail.

"Sure it is." He took her up to the privacy of his quarters and threw a towel at her before popping the environment seal of his helmet. Tomoe dried her hair and feet then hopped from one foot on the other to put her socks back on.

"None, from my point of view." He picked up the thread "The mixture is composed to influence the brain only. It can do that because it is similar to your body chemistry that regulates the interaction of conscious and subconscious. Same effect as dreaming minus nightmares because of the sedative but it wears off in a definite time. Don't worry about it. On such an early stage, stress would have been the worse medicine."

He turned to the dispenser sitting in the wall and returned with two steaming cups. "So what else?"

"A stun dart and an injection that disabled my lower jar and voice."

"I don't need to tell you that nobody runs field tests on pregnant women with such drugs. It is heavily dependent on the stage of development. In which week are you exactly?"

"I can't tell."

He arched a brow, thinking 'it's more like you don't want to tell'...

"I would say, if it's too early to notice, it's too early to be afraid of side effects. We've got an excellent medical care here. Time will tell."

"I prefer not to relay on the health care of cloner medics."

Vau nodded. "I understand. They will leave a member of our inferior species alone unless it catches their scientific interest or causes trouble."

She heard contempt dripping from his voice. "How did you end up here?"

A low chuckle barely escaped Vau's lips. His intense tiger eyes looked deep into Tomoe's. "I'm a run-away. I've lived everywhere around this galaxy for the more than forty years. Originally I did mercenary work but business was far more lucrative running weapons, spice, whatever. I did a lot of things," Vau alluded with a rare smile.

She just shook her head good-naturedly and took another drink of caf.

"Why did I leave just to settle here," Vau glanced around out of habit, always on guard. "That's what you really want to know, isn't it, Tomoe." It was a statement not a question.

Tomoe nodded, "I guess it is." she agreed.

"Because it's in my blood now," Vau eyed her levelly. "You probably don't understand…" he paused and for a moment seemed to see deep into Tomoe's soul. "Or maybe you do. Maybe you will understand in time. Sometimes, there are more important things than money, Tomoe."

"This is very true." Tomoe nodded, how she knew that. As she looked into Vau's eyes for a moment she had the oddest feeling; almost as though she were looking into a mirror, seeing within her own eyes, into her own soul. It was the most disconcerting feeling in the world. 'What do you want...'

"How about you?"

"Where I come from, they despise the old system as outdated and dangerous but cherish the choice they were given... between one tyranny or the other. Both of the institutions arguing over my world have no sense for culture or loyalty. But they wield means of violence unheard of. All what counts now is money, the latest off-world fashions and technologies, mindless submission to those in power who show no responsibility in return...

I can't change the past, but I can learn and I can raise my kid on my own."

"Sounds like a step into the right direction." Vau stated, his granite face unmoved.

"Thank you for your advice and hospitality..." she bowed lightly, "If you will excuse me..? I still have to fix my clothing."

Vau nodded silently and impassive, a storm raging in the golden tiger eyes following the small woman as she entered the elevator. The doors slid close. He turned away. What a difference she made.

-...-

Meanwhile, Jango had settled down with his son for the evening. Boba sat on his knees, a notepad in front of them which was linked to the secure com-console of Slave I. The mercenary showed his apprentice how to scratch information about a target using different resources. 'Should have done that right away.' Jango scolded himself, 'Always know what you plan to level.'

As starting point they used Tomoe's ID which he had copied before returning it to her. So far, their search had turned up little of interest: advertisements "Let us warmly welcome you to our resort... been there, seen it." he skipping through tracks of her school career, social insurance, an inscription at an arts academy, working license... everything as clean and expectable as a record from working girl could be.

It was amazing what laid around to be picked up by anybody who knew where to look. No criminal record, she had never even got so much as a parking- or speeding ticket. "If it looks like this, you've got either a very pedantic person... or it is wiped." Jango explained to his son.

"I think she is a little... pedantic." Boba piped in, excited about the new word, "She wants me to learn at least about the three 'most essential' of seven types of grindstones."

"Bummer." Jango filed his findings and widened the search on the next generation, which turned up even less public information. Up another generation. He wasn't looking for excellent kitchen knives or vintage prints of famous beauties?!

The boredom was interrupted once they tried to access the official family records on her home planet. "Entry deleted." Jango raised a brow and went to dig deeper in the archive, finding a contact department with a very short name only. The fact made him suspect a far higher level of confidentiality. At least he wasn't in a place to give them a call.

"Strange hiding policy... deleting records." He stated "I suspect they have a hard copy somewhere... and a _Rancor_ or something as nasty in front of the door."

"Dead end?" Boba rubbed his eyes and turned around on Jango's lap to face his dad.

"Until we shoot the _Rancor_ or employ a local slicer it is. Once we do that, we have a professional who can be linked back on us... and who will sell the information to the highest bidder. Let's have a look at the environment instead."

"Lakes?"

"Traditions, culture, religion. She seems to refer quite often to them."

"More bedtime stories?"

Jango chuckled "Since you already got the hang on myth and lore, you can start there... find me a spoiler-free digest."

One hour later, Jango was convinced that Bob'ika got the better part of the job. The boy was caught up reading while he sank deeper and deeper into a quicksand of contradictions himself. It was a mixture of old and new, local and foreign. When most worlds employed one concept, they had at least two solutions. No dogma to follow through the uncontrolled wild growth, no standard without an exception and lots of crazy traditions, festivities and habits. To all that came an overturned rank- and governmental system and a barely established new one, that was by no means simpler, rumours and accusations spreading in all directions. On top of it, most authors had managed to avoid the essential but inconvenient question "why?"

Jango was confused.

He had been looking for a dogma to pin her down by her own moral standards... but what were they? He had found some baselines which didn't sound too uncommon, like purity, harmony and fertility, respect the ancestors... It made him a happy explorer until he got stuck in a collection of philosophic essays with weird contents like 'believers pursuit to... kill their own deity?!

"_Dini'la aruetiise_." He would never be sure again if there was some common ground for morals in this galaxy.

"What is it, dad?" Boba's young voice penetrated the fog with ease.

"I don't get it. On one hand, they have rules for everything... but nowadays, everybody seems to do what he or she wants, unless it crosses someone with more influence or breaks some leftovers of old class standard, then it's either despised or especially honored."

"Huh? What class?"

"There were nobles, warriors, farmers, artisans and merchants... everybody was sorted out somewhere... unless you were an outcast... As an entertainment artist she wouldn't have been allowed to touch a weapon... unless it was fake and part of an act..." He elaborated and rubbed the itching bandage on his thigh "Well, what she does is definitely not just for show."

"Tomoe told me that her clan had lived by the sword for generations."

From Jango's point of view, all Non-Mandalorians were merely amateurs, but... "Warriors then - for the sake of our research." Aside of the omnipresent exceptions, this class had suffered the deepest fall in public influence recently. Maybe her reason not to push that aspect of her educational background.

"_Main duties of women of the warrior class..."_ Jango gave the digest of an article _"...manage all household affairs, maintain honor_ (whatever that means), _care for the children and elders and perhaps even defend the home forcibly, _' (make that a certainty) _...Traits valued: humility, self-control, strength, courage and loyalty... _sounds somewhat familiar, isn't it, Bobi'ika? And here we go... _subservience to her husband_ – Oya!"

Within the last 24 hours, the stakes had risen noticeably. Jango was convinced that she got all the right stuff, aside of this useless refinement, cultivation, perfectionism... all those outdated methods and futile superstitions had to go. Then she would become a part of the clan and earn a living yet be protected. He was sure she would recognize the concept. On the other hand, old loyalties and a higher regard to bloodlines and spiritual ancestry would make it harder for her to accept him as father and mate.

'I can't do anything about the past,' he rehearsed, 'Those traditions are dead on your home world, Cin'ciri. You can't go back, you can't eat your pride. You are disgraced... soiled... shamed... for you didn't even manage to kill yourself in time... okay, maybe just hint that... but: don't tell me you are not looking for something. Everybody is... I can give it to you.'

He just had to make her pull out all the stops, put her on the right track of the _Resol'Nare_... and together, they would raise their kids as _Mando'ade_. Then there would be happiness to make up for bad times. From what he had seen, she would adapt to the simple lifestyle on Mandalore gracefully. Once their job in Tipoca was done, they had to lay low until the storm was over and the galaxy had been purged. Together they would rally to the cause of their people.

Jango noticed Boba had fallen asleep in his lap, the mop of dark curls burrowed into his wide chest. He picked up the sleeping kid and carried him to bed. When he undid the sturdy boots, the boy woke and shrunk out of his clothing on his own. "How about _you_ tell me a story tonight, Boba?" Jango proposed, mischief blinking in his dark eyes. "Uh no... I'm sleeping already." – "Fine with me. Sleep well."

-...-

'That was easy.' Jango leaned against the corridor wall for a moment and smiled. Then the door buzzer went and his smile dropped. It was Kal stopping by, wearing his 'women!'-face, which could only be escalated by catastrophes like a Null in bacta or an air raid on _Keldabe_. Poor guy. There was a reason why he was doing things differently. "What is it now?"

Kal got right to the point "Maybe you provide Tomoe with some basic necessities, before she turns into a liability again... not everybody loses a bet as gracefully as you or Dred... against a newbie and amateur."

If nothing else, Cin'ciri provided at least one essential thing to their little community... gossip. "She's gambling?"

"She tried a new set of self-made throwing blades on the _cu'bikad_-board and liberated Dred's hold-out blaster on the way. Looks like she started a weapons collection like any good girl."

"She's good enough to deserve your praise?" Jango arched a brow. Kal's skill with his three sided knife was infamous.

"It looked narrow, but it's hard to tell if he let her win or if she merely kept him interested."

"Well at least it is another small piece in the puzzle of her."

"One you can't effort to solve with a piece of yours at a time." Kal shrugged, "you could have chosen a _Mando_ girl as well. One who doesn't juggle half of Tipoca's male population as easily as her throwing knifes."

"Did you honestly think it would be easy to put her back into the box once _you_ let her out? What do you expect me to do? - Lock her up and place a sign on her door," Jango outlined a rectangle with his fingertips, "...dangerous, do not feed?" he laughed dryly.

"I never thought I would see the day when you would finally take a lover, even one as cute as Tomoe." Kal's blue crystal clear eyes bore into Jango's dark ones. "You must choose to accept her fully or to let her leave; otherwise you both will continue to hurt one another until you destroy everything about yourself."

"There is something about her. I don't know, it has me confused. Still it is my problem. I will find a way to deal with it, I always do... Now let's quit the gossip and get down to business."

-...-

Chapter 2.3 – Jango's Recap

After briefing Kal, Jango turned in and did his personal recap of the day.

So far, so good. Cin'ciri had not gone into hysteria upon receiving his message of pregnancy. She did not try to commit suicide or went amok. Her vital signs had been remarkable stable, the stress electrocardiogram during the morning-gym proved her excellent physical condition. She had been acting quite reasonably all day aside of the fact that she still denied to acknowledge the obvious... but that would change sooner or later.

He had to hand it to Kal, the situation had its advantages. No more injuries from manacles, healthy exercises, better overall performance... and most important: Boba had relaxed remarkably. His son had a fine sense for abnormality. He could not have fooled him much longer. In fact, it was surprising how eagerly Cin'ciri had tried to keep everything from the boy. He wondered how long had she managed to hide that garrote from him. After all he had strip-searched her in the morning and frisked her the evening before... but he had been looking for a knife then.

The bounty hunter mapped his prey's location over the day. She had been in Vau's personal quarter? _Fierfek_! Did she enjoy pain so much that she couldn't get enough of that guy?! He compared time stamps with the vital signs, spotting no prominent raise, only a couple of small peaks. Just chatting? Hmmm... he was still the one who got her heart racing... while having breakfast, for example. Not that it had shown much on the outside. Maybe he could convince her to wear his anklet a little longer. The intimate insight it provided him was a nice feature...

For the moment Cin'ciri was in her quarter, just a small bare foot showing within the frame of the surveillance camera while she was mending patiently something draped over her lap. He could find the interesting scenes in fast-forward tomorrow. If she let the lights on long enough and didn't prefer to move through pitch black darkness like she had last night. Eyes like a _dire-cat_. Excellent hunter-material he had tampered with.

Not that she had been appreciative of his tampering so far. Raised as a warrior of sorts, she naturally had her pride... No wonder she felt stepped upon. But then, before their deal that set her free, he had only taken what he had been entitled to. As her legal owner, he had never been rough with her unless she insulted or attacked him. She had aired her grievances. Once they had worked out the details and formalities, she would be his official mate. She could keep her pride and he would have more sway as her husband.

Jango ran a hand down his awakening body as he allowed himself to fantasize about what 'subservient' meant. He could think of a couple of services if he put his mind on it, but it probably depended on instructions... He was sure she would be a fast learner once she relaxed and eventually let him teach her. He didn't want her to associate sex with pain but to participate willingly... experience what desire felt like. He would have her again. But not yet. He wanted her consent.

_Her long hair was hanging down like a dark curtain, cutting them off from the outside world._

_He looked up into her passionate face and gave a slow smile of gratification. She looked so beautiful with her pale torso flushed pink with excitement and her nipples erect. She purred with pleasure and moved her hips as his fingers went up to rub the rosy, velvety crests. "Ride me," _he closed his eyes and took his pleasure in his own hands.

_She was straddling his nude hard body, her hips found the rhythm easily as they began to move against one another. His demure little lady was a wildcat in his bed..._

_He could feel his orgasm approach like an ocean storm as he threw back his head and suppressed a throaty cry. _

Her voice returned to his mind, low and brittle like autumn leaves. "...but still find no satisfaction." Then the silky curtain of hair was gone, sliced in halves.

"Poor Jango," the bodiless voice crooned in his ear.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Day 8

The next morning started out like the day before: gym, self-studies, lunch... she was about to make evening arrangements with Rav as Jango requested his pants back and dropped off Boba after lunch.

"You can have them returned any time, but the mending isn't finished yet."

"Too busy embellishing your own clothing, no doubt." His eyes slid over her now formfitting tunic and pants. She was positively alluring in the clothing she had modified.

Cin'ciri had belted it with a narrow sash that looked like it had been the side joints of fatigue-pants in an earlier life, her knife protruding proudly from underneath the hand on her hip. "It's a very sturdy material. I mended the softer body layer most carefully, but I cannot get the needle to penetrate the protective layer."

"That's what Vulcanizing-patches are for. Since you didn't finish your duty, you will do it in your personal time before telling Boba's bedtime story. 2030 our place. Bring my pants." He turned to leave without further comment. 'No more hanging around with others, _cyar'ika_...'

'You could have told me...' then she realized that he would not have carried a bundle through all the afternoon exercises in case she had managed a miracle and finished the job in time. 'That's merely your need for control acting up again...' she knew it was pointless, but his attitude ruffled her feathers and she hated how quickly she was drawn into his domain again.

"Sire." she stopped him before adding, "You forgot something yesterday." Staring back at him, she shifted her balance on her right foot then glanced downwards purposefully, the toes of her socked left foot resting on the floor lightly.

If she expected him to kneel in front of her in a public corridor, she was sadly mistaken. "The removal of that anklet can wait until I have tools around."

"Looks like I need to help myself then..." She mocked Mr. Walking Armory's poor excuse "...to a pair of boots for example. I won't step to the repairs of your second set personal items until I have _one_ set of proper footwear."

"I'll have to pick you up then." He smiled at her with a possessive gleam in his eyes, 'Walk or I toss you over a shoulder, _mir'sheb,' _he thought. Then he slid the helmet over his face and went about his afternoon task.

-...-

'Patience... don't let him wind you up.' Tomoe surveyed Boba shaping his practice saber with firm, even strokes. It was therapeutic. 'Concentrate at the task at hand.' They finished the blade with a simple mounting and tidied the workshop. "Time to try it, isn't it?"

"Sure." There was a whole new bounce in Boba's steps on the way to the sergeants training room that was deserted at this time of the day.

They did a quick warm-up together followed by an introduction to basic footwork under Tomoe's careful watch. It consisted of successive strikes vertically left and right. "Alright." She picked a quarter-staff from the shelf "And now we do that 400 times..."

This had nothing to do with what Tomoe had done to his dad two evenings ago, but he slowly got the hang of it. "...my right arm's nearly numb." Boba winced in the three hundreds.

"The power should come from your left arm anyway, while the right hand does the guidance. With practise, you will relax your hands and shoulders and over the time you will find an adequate grip. Breathing can act as a key to releasing the tension in your upper body. Quick breath through nose, push down to stomach hold 5, let slip-out through mouth for count of 5 repeat. Got it?"

They finished and put the practice weapons away. "Now we do 20 push-ups, 20 sit-ups and 20 frog-jumps to loosen up."

Tomoe called endex and treated a blister on Boba's foot. "We will practice centering, distance and correct technique, while building your spirit and stamina. Well done." They retreated to Tomoe's quarter for the daily homework.

This afternoon, Boba had no problems to sit still.

-...-

When Jango passed by at Cin'ciri's quarters in the evening, nobody opened to the door buzzer. 'If this is meant as an attempt to avoid me, it's not a promising one.' He checked the location of the monitoring anklet which was down in the cantina. The bounty hunter found them sitting at a table squished between Rav's red and Isabet's yellow armor. Maybe not such a stupid idea after all. There was just one thing Mandalorian men were known to be afraid of: Mandalorian women. Not him, though, he was the boss here.

"I said I'd pick you up." Jango's gravelly voice rang in Tomoe's ears when he leaned over her, his face close enough to her to take in her scent.

"We finished early and worked up quite an appetite," she excused herself. He stood so close she could feel his breath on her skin. "Since you denied removing that anklet, I knew you would have no difficulties to locate us. Go ahead, grab your dinner." She added lightly.

Jango had a quick look over the audience, made a beeline to the food counter then settled down across them. "Why do you always talk back?" he inquired.

"You 've an entire city answering to your command. Someone must take up the role of resistance."

Isabet chuckled. Rav had seen the marks under Tomoe's tunic which made her death serious about her decline.

So much to subservience. Was it just him who got her in the non-teachable moments? Nevertheless, this small woman picked up certain Mandalorian habits faster than he wanted her to. "Brought your evening task with you?"

"Under my seat."

"I insist you finish it tonight and tell Boba's bedtime story - as usual."

"I've got an appointment already, so no more night-time demands from you, _Sir_. Hand me a vulcanization patch and I'll do it afterwards." Boba pouted. "I'm sorry. I'll tell you stories whenever your dad can't be around," Tomoe told the boy and continued eating like nothing happened even though it tasted like ashes in her mouth.

"Do I have to remind you what I pay you for?"

"Do I have to remind you that you haven't delivered on your promise yet?" She could play the parrot-game with Fett all evening from where she was seated. If he reached under the table, her first slash would slit his throat.

"I said I'm going to remove the anklet with tools I have in my quarter. Repairs, bedtime story, that's it."

"You are a man who will not take 'no' for an answer. How do I know I can trust you?"

"My word is my bond. Try me."

This was going into an unhealthy dilemma for all of them. Tomoe wouldn't line up for another rape; the Mandalore's word was to be respected. Both were ready to kill when push came to shove.

"I'm sure we girls can meet a little later. Just call me." Rav made a show of slowly reaching into her utility belt. She produced a comlink, slipped it to Tomoe and immediately turned on Fett. "I expect that returned tomorrow, so supply Tomoe with one for her to keep. What frequency does that anklet use?" She noted it down on her gauntlet and stood.

"Make sure Tom'ika isn't late..." Isabet arched a brow, "and don't do anything we wouldn't do." then she left the cantina with Rav.

Chapter 3.1 – The Eight-Headed Serpent

They finished dinner and went to Fett's place. Tomoe was silent and glad that Jango made no further comment than explaining the technology he used to fix the body glove. He started the time-consuming chemical process afterwards, played and chatted with Boba, all paternal indulgence.

Tomoe knew what monsters hid underneath that amicable surface and it drove her crazy. 'Don't draw attention... Rav and Isabet are around... stay patient... stay polite... you can defend yourself... IF...' repeated through her head while Jango procrastinated the task until it was Boba's bedtime.

Tomoe sat on the edge of the bed, turned her straight back on Fett and made no movement at all first. She took a deep breath and released it slowly to relax consciously. "_ How the God of the Moon angered the Sun Goddess, and why day and night are never together... " _she started.

"Uaghhh..." Boba complained soundly "Now _that_ is a boring story. Please tell me the one about the Storm God in the land below..."

'How could he know...?' Tomoe arched a brow, but she started the story he had asked for, slowly at first, fishing for words...

"_When the punished Storm God was expelled from heaven, he descended near a river through the Central Land of Reed Plains between the high snow covered mountain roof on which She-who-invites had been buried, where the entrance to the world of land of shadow was locked, and the inner sea. _

_While he followed the river up-stream, he heard an elderly couple crying. Sitting between them was a lovely young maiden. He inquired to the nature of their sadness, and they replied that a great eight headed serpent had forced the deities of the land to give it one of their daughters every year or it would ravage the land. Seven years had passed and seven of their daughters had been sacrificed, and now they must sacrifice their final daughter, Rice Paddy Princess._

_Storm God fell in love with the beautiful princess on first sight and went to investigate the opponent. Indeed, it was a terrible monster with eight heads and eight tails, stretched over eight hills and was said to have blood-shot red eyes and could breath fire... Nevertheless, he made the couple an offer upon his return, if they wanted him to slay the serpent they had to grant him their daughter's hand in marriage, and the couple happily agreed. Transforming the princess temporarily into a comb to have her company during battle, he hid her safely in his hair and detailed his plan to her parents." _

Leaning back into his pillow, Boba followed the dance of her slender hands and grinned "No problems. He's the Storm God."

"As much as the storm rages, it does not turn over a mountain… even if the Storm God had cracked the huge cedars off the serpent's back with brute force it would have barely scratched the surface of that adversary… so, he had to come up with a different plan…."

"_The Storm God asked the old couple to brew and distil an eightfold refined liquor, he then divided into eight large tubs. He also ordered a large fence built around the house where they knew the serpent would come. Then he placed the tubs on individual platforms positioned behind the fence with eight small gates leading to them. The serpent arrived and was furious to find its usual path blocked. As it drew a deep breath to show its might, it smelled the liquor and proceeded to drink it all before devouring Rice Paddy Princess for dessert._

_But the eight heads faced a dilemma. They wanted to drink the delicious rice wine that called to them, yet the fence stood in their way, blocking any method of reaching it. One head first suggested they simply smash the barrier down... but that would knock over and waste the liquor making it all for naught. Another proposed they combine their fiery breath and burn the fence into ash... but then the liquor would evaporate. _

_The heads began searching for an opening and found the hatches and eager for the liquor, they were keen to poke their heads through to go and drink it. Yet the eighth head, which was the wisest, warned his brethren of the folly of such a thing and volunteered to go through first to make sure all was well. In hiding, the Storm God patiently waited for his chance. He let the head drink some liquor in safety and report back to the others that there was no danger. All eight heads plunged through a hatch each and greedily drank every last drop of the liquor in the tubs." _

Jango perched on the edge of his son's small desk and watched the show, his arms clasped over his wide chest. The entertainer had come out of her shell, gestures and gentle body movements made her words come alive.

This fairytale was far more comprehensible and instructional than the last he had witnessed. Like any good mercenary, the protagonist asked first what was in for him, did his recce and preparations to master the task at minimum risk. He wished he had placed a holo-recorder on Boba's headboard instead of just recording the view from his helmet sitting on the desk beside him. Their historian, Llats Ward would be interested in it.

"_As the heads finished, the Storm God launched his attack on the eight-headed snake. Drunken from so much liqueur, the great serpent was no match for him, who decapitated each head in turn. A nearby river was said to have turned red with the blood of the defeated serpent._

_The Storm God then proceeded to cut the rest of the monster apart, and reaching the serpent's tails he struck something metal. From the fourth tail of the serpent, Storm God drew forth a great curved blade, and this sword was called the cloud gathering sword. To come to terms with his sister, the Storm God sent the sword to the Sun Goddess as a peace offering and she gave him some of her jewels in return." _

"...and then?" Boba didn't let her up that night. At least he would get his happily-ever-after.

"_After the incident with the snake, the Storm God built a large wooden palace by the sea and protected it with an eightfold fence of clouds. He transformed the comb he had kept safely in his hair back to the form of the girl and took the beautiful Rice Paddy Princess for his wife. He appointed the Elder Deity of the Land to be his steward and ruled in peace and prosperity for many years. He gave up his old habit of wailing and withering and planted out many seeds of trees, so his living area was soon called Woody Land between the Reed Plains and the Land of the Shadows where his mother, She-who-invites dwelled. Hidden there, the Storm god lived with his youngest daughter Forward Princess. But that is another story." _

-...-

Tomoe rose, straightened the blanket and kissed the boy's forehead "Sleep well." She left but stopped at the main door on the notice of her left foot. She felt so very tired, unable to put up with that detail right now... or him.

"Please sit and look as beautiful as your exemplary princess, your savior's coming with the tools." Jango crooned and made a show rummaging through the storage.

"The lucky eighth one, you mean?" Tomoe perched on the arm rest of the easy chair wearily "I don't mind a beautiful role model, but the tale also says that if you are one out of seven, you'd be very dead waiting for a hero instead of slaying the serpent with your own hands..."

"Savor your luck then." Jango squatted down cautiously and produced a small tool box. "Would you please sit still for a moment? I can't do such delicate work when you are squirming around like this."

"Sorry, I'm cold." Tomoe froze up, silent as the grave and solid as a statue. Not moving or making another sound. She realized it wasn't working, just the opposite, he was enjoying himself. The removal of the anklet would not make him realize that he had to set her free.

'Still so afraid,' he thought and knew that with one more comment and her demeanor would crack. "My offer to warm you still stands, princess." He rolled down her sock sensuously and grinned up at her, mischief flickering over his rugged face.

'Run!' The command of her instincts resulted in a mad dash out of his quarter.

Jango rolled to his feet and watched her make a run for it before he could enter the opening code to the anklet. "No patience," he shook his head and chuckled, placing his tools back into the box. He hadn't even needed to tell her how much he liked her scent before she kicked him in the shoulder... but not in the face. Maybe she liked him a little after all.

-...-

Tomoe escaped into her quarters and leaned her forehead against the door for a moment, trying to muffle her cries and stop her tears. She had lost her nerves for no palpable reason. Everything seemed so hopeless, so pointless.

The door buzzer went. She searched for the controls beside the small security monitor blindly. "Tom'ika?" her helmet's amplifier saved Rav the screaming. The door slid open. "I'm okay..."

The Mandalorian in red armor gave her a once over "No, you are not." She motioned her over while her comrade in yellow lobbed something inside. In the awkward moment in front of the closing door, Tomoe felt armored arms close around her and turn her around. "C'mon, stay with me. Isabet will clean your place."

Rav walked Tomoe down the corridor briskly, checking something on her gauntlet. Once inside her quarter she raised the security level and paced in the corridor, her head lowered like listening to something in her helmet. "Make yourself at home, Tom'ika." She advised "Take a shower, get some rest. There's a clean set of clothing on the bathroom shelf."

The younger woman followed mechanically, some of her tension draining away with the water. When she finished dressing, Rav stood in the open bathroom door. A tilt of the slimming T-shaped visor acknowledged her guest. "The anklet, he... you..."

"I've jammed that frequency." Rav closed the channel to Isabet and slid the helmet off her head. She shook her grey-shot chestnut braids on her back and transferred the bean-comlink into her ear. Considering what she had been through, the young woman had reacted remarkable well to their armor, but there was no need to overdo it. 'She needs a familiar face to talk to...' She retrieved the blanket from the chair and tucked her protégé in like a child. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"N... nothing..." Tomoe pulled the blanket up under her chin, her eyes locked on Rav's unmarked face "Everything took longer than expected... then... I don't want you to get in trouble..."

"Then what?" Rav's voice was even, interested without being impatient.

"I told Boba his bedtime story. He just watched. Afterwards I wanted to leave and he wanted to remove the anklet... as promised... he didn't have that time before... then I snapped... suddenly... I kicked him and ran out."

"You kicked him... where?"

"In the shoulder, I think."

"No immediate reason? Did he touch you? Threaten you?"

"Just my foot, he needed..."

"I see." Rav closed her investigation. "You don't need to defend him. It was well deserved anyway." She staked her armor, locked her main-weapons in the nightstand and placed the gauntlets with the jamming transmitter on top beside the helmet. "Isabet de-bugged your place. She found monitoring devices for sound and video. Of course we have no evidence it was Fett's doing, which is like a proof that it was him indeed." She yawned "He made a pass on you, you kicked him where he can take it easily because you are too nice of a girl. That's how the two of us see it."

"But... what does he wish to accomplish?"

"He's a curious guy and he takes what he can get." Rav snuggled under her own blanket beside Tomoe, "Sleep now. I will keep you safe."

"But what can I do? I have given my word, yet I can't even control myself."

"When you confront him directly, he will tell us something like 'Oh, I just pulled her foot a little'." Rav put her palm on Tomoe's forehead. It felt cool and soothing "Don't worry, tomorrow Isabet and I give you some hints how to ruin his fun. I bet you want to do something on your own." She chuckled at Tomoe's full hearted agreement and settled down to listen to her slowing breathing rate.

-...-

Jango had just logged into his monitoring frame as it was shot to _haran_ with an efficiency he was sure his prey could not muster. 'Where do you run to now, _Cin'ciri_?" Not that she could go far without being noticed. 'Ease your mind.' Sooner or later she would tire and settle down. He briefly wondered if he should check her room personally and install another monitoring set in case she stayed elsewhere, but decided against it. After all, he made her schedule himself which deserted her place on a regular basis. Whoever had supported her deserved to stay awake all night and wait for something that did not happen.

He had all time in the world to figure her out.

-...-

"_Run... don't look back..." A familiar voice calls to her, underlined by the swiff of a perfectly balanced blade cutting down the reed in wide circles as it catches fire. "Run, Tomoe-chan, run and never come back" _

_... and she runs... runs against an invisible eddy..._

_The suffocating smoke obstructs her view, then fades to the warm glow of crackling embers. A small wiry man settles in front of the hearth and stares into the flames, the shine caressing his wrinkled face "It's yours Tomoe-chan... It doesn't matter what you do with it... as long as you put your heart into it." His yell splits the air, water sizzles on hot metal, steam rises to the wooden roof beams._

"_There's a time for everything," a figure wearing full armor pushes past her, the shoulder pads dwarfing her. Flashing black eyes are the only life sign under the bearded facial mask. "Your time to make a stand will come - Don't miss it." The golden three-fold wind wheel on the helmet catches the light one last time when he turns out of the door harshly. The winged outline is swallowed in the mist._

_The brilliant sound of a small bell rings through the darkness... ring... silence... ring... "Patience, Tomoe-chan... patience is the key." The voice wanders around her in the darkness like an invisible sentry... the velvety darkness enfolding her like cool black silk._

_The clear ring of the bell fades into the soft jingling of hair ornaments "Mighty castles... are lit by the desire of men." The woman stands smoothly with regal _demeanor and opens the vermilion red lining of her overcoat to the evening splendor that gleams on her raven black hairdo.

"How?"

_A slender bare foot flips the heavy padded hem aside as she turns away, "stop asking, start acting."_

_A cute girl who had been leaning against the tall woman's thigh pushes away from the waterfall of her silken sash. A thread ball rolls to the floor... hop... hop... "You are still my little girl" an angelic voice carries over the brush of manifold silken layers... "Little girl..." the kid approaches..._

"Mom?!"

_...and merges into her body, leaving her to embrace empty air that is humming "Always my little girl..." the singsong faded away._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Day 9

Rav stretched and eyed her guest who knelt in front of a white wall silently. "How do you feel?" She credited her healthy sleep to the girl's stealth.

"Like a battalion of my ancestors trampled all over me." Tomoe pushed her breath out and stood. "Bound to happen if one skips too many evening prayers," it got her a chuckle "Just back to the here-and-now and ready to get technical with you."

"We have a little time to the morning exercises," the _Mando'ad_ tied her shoes, "The sooner you get used to it the better."

"I gather that somebody – Fett most likely – has been eavesdropping and spying on me without being present, using devices called 'bugs'... like a comlink that was left on the table unnoticed?"

"Yes. Isabet will be here in a moment and bring what she uprooted. It's not the only possibility though, just an example."

"Can you explain me how you see things?" Rav arched a brow at her questionably. "You move differently when wearing your helmet... and it's not just the protective dead weight... It enables you to see and hear things that are not around, isn't it?"

"Yes. Every _buy'ce_ is custom made, so some people enjoy more functions than others, but we all have at least an audio communication, an environment seal and filters. There is no standard among the visual displays, sensory, armor and weapon controls. It's a question of finances and personal preferences. Not everybody likes to unleash a weapon system within the blink of an eye. I have a wide screen display for surroundings as well as other sources and I can switch or scroll views with blinks, voice and clicks, but I leave the weapon controls to my hands and gauntlets."

Rav slipped the helmet over her head briefly to change a couple of settings, then passed it to Tomoe. "That's the surround view..." the helmet was passed back "Infrared. It shows the temperature of surfaces. Great to pick off adversaries in the dark or under thick plant growth." Tomoe passed her hand through her field of vision and rotated her head slowly. Another switch "Penetrating radar works with the echo of metal surfaces. It also pictures movement, through fog and even walls. If you have a computerized weapon system, you can feed it the vectors."

Tomoe chuckled inside the helmet "You look like you lost your head... but I can still hear you." As she stood and turned slowly, surfaces popped up and vanished in her vision "This is confusing... I could run right into a wall and wonder what hit me..." She passed her sheathed knife through the main field of vision.

"If it is not metal or moves too slow or not at all, it is filtered out. It takes some practice to calibrate the system to find what you are looking for."

The door buzzer went and Isabet entered. "Su'cuy... made friends with a bottle of Rav's _tihaar, vod'ika?_" She snickered with a look at the staggering woman wearing Rav's helmet.

"Good morning and thanks for yesterday." Her speaker modulated voice sounded odd. Tomoe slipped the red and black helmet off her head and returned it to Rav "All the news make my head spin, so no _tihaar_ for me, thanks" she winked.

"Here are the bugs I found in your room..." Isabet held out something that looked more like artificial white sea-weed to Tomoe, "disabled, of course: micro... camera... power source... antenna."

"Small. Did it take you long to find them?"

"Just a close look around. It's easy when you know what you are looking for and whoever did it had little time for installation. You can search manually or you can use a scanner, but then you better don't shut 'em down with an EMP first." Isabet smirked again "But I love to flash uninvited spectators. They don't need to know right away who's involved."

"What area can the jammer cover?" Tomoe looked down herself. "I better change back into my own clothing... you said, you disabled the device with a flash... could I switch it on and off at will?"

"You catch on quickly." Rav's smile widened "It's possible, here... and here, if you exchange or bridge the fuses Isabet fried... but it's not as safe... and tricky to do without visible and audible disruption."

Tomoe belted her tunic, rolled up the cables and pocketed them, a little smile playing around her lips.

Isabet shook her head "I bet you missed something in your earlier life without those gadgets, _vod'ika_... what did you use for communication?"

"Hardware. Mirrors, drums, fires, messengers, birds... I can tell comlinks spread like wildfire when introduced. The means might be different, but the intentions are quite constant. Learning about devices shouldn't be harder than to train a hawk."

Tomoe thought of asking Rav to accompany her to Dred's door before splitting from her jammer and give Fett something to ponder, but decided against it. It was clear enough that the two women tried to contain the conflict… within certain limits. For good measure they made a point showing up to morning training one by one, but Fett preferred to ignore them and act out normality without making further demands.

After breakfast, Tomoe indulged in her own lesson and inspection the uprooted sensory closely. It raised more questions than it solved... and she still needed shooting lessons. She gazed around the room 'He can look through walls... he could be right out there..." she had to make a mental effort to keep the walls of paranoia from closing in on her.

"Shut up. He IS out there. Little good it will do him.' She had her own ways of making sure that nobody entered in her absence without her notice.

.oOo.

Tomoe was a no-show in the mess hall and Jango used his lunch break to ask Boba about the part of the story he missed because... he decided not to follow that line of thought. "How did it come that the Storm God was expelled from heaven?"

"The Storm God destroyed things and caused disorder. He was to be banned but went to his sister, the Sun Goddess instead of obeying. She faced him, but instead of fighting, she proposed a deal. The Storm God felt betrayed and caused more havoc up to an outright attack on his sister. She didn't fight back but withdrew into a cave, so all the deities became endangered without her light. Together they managed to trick her into coming out using a mirror, but they punished the Storm God nevertheless."

"How so?"

"He had to leave heaven... and pay a fine of sorts... and they plugged his hair and nails out."

"Ouch." Just another hint how spiritually important hair seemed to be to them. One more thing she would not forget... but then, it had been Kal's doing... and she seemed to get along with him anyway.

.oOo.

After the first afternoon exercise, father and son parted in front of her door. Tomoe waited for Jango to round the corner, once he was out of sight, she dropped Rav a call and picked a vacant training hall for their fencing lesson.

Striding to his own class Jango got an alert that the contact to Cin'ciri's anklet had been interrupted again. He decided that today was a good time as any to sneak a peek on her training. He ran his ARCs through the basics and set each of them on various exercises, switched through a couple of security channels around her last reported location, then jogged over to see his son's lesson.

Tomoe was doing a handful of basic moves over and over... it looked terrible boring, but curiously, Boba listened to her advice and accepted it without complaint. It was probably the ball from wrapped-up shreds she produced towards the end of the exercise and made up a game that included striking the ball, running and picking up the partner's dropped stick in a lunge-roll on the other side of the hall and strike again. It looked like fun indeed.

Jango watched the entire practice, slipping out at the last minute before she could spot him. He went back to his own class, although his mind continued to replay her teachings in his mind.

.oOo.

Chapter 4.1 – Blackmail and White Hare

What Jango forgot was his lingering scent in the corridor, which was picked up by a finely attuned nose used unfiltered air and no helmet. A weapon oil that wasn't hers. Antiseptic soap. Male musk. Her conscious logic couldn't ascertain its source, but her instincts ran true and her hackles rose...

Superficially, nothing special happened all day, but the circumstances grated on her nerves and made her restless. Alone in her quarters she leaned her head back against the chair as her eyes closed a few moments.

Rav's comlink beeped. Fett continued to invade her privacy. Why did he call her in now? Telling her he wanted to give her a comlink of her own. Go figure. But she had to meet his demand anyway, to 'earn her keep' - as he put it. Not that she received much support in return for the loyalty she had promised.

The door slid open to reveal an unarmored Jango with a seven-o-clock-shadow on his rugged face. "Come in." Boba wasn't in sight. 'Bad.' She kept her stance, so centered that a shove would push the floor off the stilts into the stormy sea rather than moving the small woman. "I made no move to hold you back last night, did I?" Jango offered in a show of innocence.

"The comlink." She extended her hand slowly. 'Forget what happened. This is a new game. Act normal.'

"Come in." He repeated and withdrew from the doorframe into the living room. "Boba's out playing with the Nulls. I just want to talk to you in private... _Tomoe_."

Well, that was a new one, Fett using her real name. 'Trying hard to unfreeze the situation, are you..? I've got a couple of questions as well...' She stepped inside and the door slid shut close to her heels. She had a quick glimpse on the control pad. Unlocked. Good. She moved on.

"Tomoe, who are you?"

"That is kind of blunt, isn't it Jango?" Tomoe replied, looking up at the mercenary with a slight smile.

Jango studied her closely. She had changed in some way since regaining part of her freedom. It was as if she was more confident, more alive... more mature... and very much a live wire.

Tomoe didn't like the way his eyes ran over her body and rested on her mid section "Whenever you come for my child, I will be ready," she snarled.

"Ours." He reminded her gently, his gaze returning to her face without haste.

"We are not mated."

"How is the etiquette for that?" Jango asked

"You could have asked your senior to relay your serious interest to the head of the resort."

"Sounds complicated... and there's a problem: I have no senior."

"You should have asked." Tomoe cut short.

"Just to hear the wrong answer?" he quirked a brow. She wasn't humored, but she had to hand it to him: he was patience incarnate tonight.

"Who can tell afterwards? Anyway, it would have been a polite answer that sustained mutual harmony."

"We can't change the past..."

"If I may quote my senior;" she started with reference, "Your decision." ...She dearly hoped her retort would close the topic, but Jango wasn't even out of breath. No wonder after all the word-saving over years...

"Tomoe, I'm going to raise our kid the _Mando_ way. For that I need to know what is going on. The _Cuy'val Dar_ have already voted you into the band, so you have a place within my troops if you want it. You won't be left behind. But more than a few things are bothering me, and I need some answers that I suspect you have."

"You have taken enough things privy to me already." Anytime Boba wasn't listening was a good time for her to discuss it. She could not change the past – true - but if he wanted to reason with her, she could get right to the point. "What did you hope for in the beginning?"

"I have gathered many enemies over the years. That's why I need one who can defend herself and my children. You were doing fine with your pocket-knife. There was a certain strength in you I was looking for. But after a while, they cave in, you know - ALL of them. It's a human survival instinct. You are a survivor, Tomoe. It kicks in sooner or later. The weaker want to befriend the strong, they lounge for approval, even from the same person who abducted them," he lectured her with that small smirk on his lips.

...The one she longed to smack off his face while wishing for a quarter of his confidence. "You are quite overconfident. I tell you again: I'm neither 'all' nor 'weak'. I am not worth the trouble. WE want to be left alone. Take that life I bestowed on you for the sake of peace and make the best of it. There is nothing you can teach us."

"Tell me how a servant girl can handle blades so well, yet nobody knows about you or your family."

"You've made the concept your own already. Start early and train hard."

"You are tempting me to abduct yet another handmaiden and find out if they are all as good as you..."

"For once I did what I was born to do. If your hunger for outrage isn't sated yet, I have to try harder."

"So others are not born to it?"

"That's the way of the galaxy."

"Why did you decide to become a servant instead of a warrior? ...quite a drop in hierarchy, isn't it?" he mused.

"Since we've got equal rights, my profession wasn't requested anymore, so I exchanged one service for another. They were glad to give me the customers that other girls felt uneasy with."

"Where you come from, you would continue to be in disgrace. They would expect you to be a good, dutiful female and die. Thus, sparing your family the scandal... Here you can be what you were raised to be: a warrior."

"With you?!" Tomoe laughed into his face. It was a cold sound that held no comfort and blanked out her usual quiet demeanor completely. If he didn't find out enough about her to know how pointless his scandalous argumentation was... and how hurt she was on the inside... then she would keep it like that. "You will know when that _matter of etiquette_ becomes serious when _somebody_ asks you for my approval, Mandalore. Until then, I enjoy my privacy."

Jango realized that he had been wrong in the assumption that she could not hurt him. He just learned she could do damage far beyond the physical pain. He would have preferred her crying helplessly instead of this mirthless laugh. Then he could have comforted her. Nevertheless he wasn't one to give up easily. "You deserve the best, Tomoe," he soothed.

"Which is best for ME depends solely of MY point of view."

"I saved your life three times within a week: from the slavers, from the influenza and from myself - Is that nothing?"

... 'and I saved you from myself, yourself and a lot of trouble – I owe you NOTHING.' Would she need to jump his throat to press her point home?

"I will think about it..." she retreated to a blunt paraphrase of 'no'- "...and don't you worry, I am as reliable as you consider me trustworthy..." she didn't need to raise an eyebrow to wait for him to understand the concept and his face become ashen. "You summoned me to give me a comlink?"

.oOo.

In the meantime, Boba was rappelling down a maintenance pit with Prudii and Mereel who had promised to show him some of their findings. It was the perfect occasion to question their younger 'brother' and bypass Kal'buir's gagging order...

"What did you say was name of the new human-sized aiwha bait?" Mereel inquired from the edge above.

"I didn't say. Her full name is Tomoe Harada and she is not an aiwha-bait, but a human female."

"Like Sergeant Bralor?"

"Yes, just a little smaller and thinner."

"_Copikla_." Prudii snorted from the bottom of the pit "So what's her purpose... is she full-grown at all?"

"She's strong enough to throw Boba around." Mereel offered politely.

"That doesn't say much." Prudii showed Boba how to unlatch the rope "Not used to be smacked around with blunt objects since they handed you a deece, _vod_?" he called up.

"You have no clue of females."

"But you have, eh?"

"...and wield Vau's sabre..." Boba added with a smirk at Mereel who landed beside him without a sound.

"_Wayii_!"came in unison

Boba's smile widened "Where to now?" he continued unimpressed and made clear he had his own agenda when it came to return of investment. Any information had its price.

"Where does she come from?" Mereel tried to bypass while unbolting the cover of a maintenance opening that lead deeper into the recesses of the facilities.

"From a place where you can see the stars at night because it doesn't rain. There is enough shore for everybody to walk on firm ground. Plants grow everywhere. The water is collected in 'lakes' with fish in them. And the housing isn't made from durasteel and –plasts but from wood and paper. They live in small thatched huts that stand on little stilts and they use real fire."

"You've really seen all this?" Prudii raked his memory for a holozine or whatever the small one could have used to cheat on them.

"Sure. We picked her up and went to another planet, which was all dry and dusty. Lots of big white buildings. Bright sun all day, all colours on the sky at dusk and dawn. Dad did some business with her and picked her up the next morning. Then we came back here." ... never tell the whole truth in a deal... just enough to keep the big boys hooked...

"So how did she get her hands on Vau's sabre?" Mereel hadn't forgotten about his knife yet.

"Good enough to play the next game of _meshgeroya_ in your team next time?" Boba quirked a brow at the boy looming over him on the maintenance walkway.

Prudii shook his head at the blackmail "You are not going to enjoy your part of the deal, _vod'ika_..." he warned.

Mereel gave them a shove "C'mon, with our record, we can effort to lose one game..."

.oOo.

The door buzzer went and Jango handed Tomoe a comlink, not unlike the one Rav had given her "Good timing to tuck Boba in." He invited the unruly female to sit in the easy chair while he answered the door. His son's appearance was tousled but he stood proudly between the two Nulls before strolling past his dad. The two older boy's eyes followed Boba inside curiously

"What are you waiting for? Lights out in half an hour..." Jango's tone was not unfriendly, just back to his gravely business voice. The kids skittered off. When the door slid close, he turned on Boba "Shower. - Help yourself to a drink, Tomoe," Jango told the woman standing awkwardly in the middle of his quarter, then went for a change of clothing from the kid's room and vanished in the bathroom.

Tomoe shook her head silently and sipped her _shig_. Again, the guy had wasted her plans of a shooting lesson with no effort. She regarded the comlink on the desk suspiciously. 'Better let Isabet have a look into that...' Clean communications where more important than yet another weapon that was unlikely to penetrate his armour. Maybe she could borrow Boba's fishing line for a day or two.

Tomoe pocketed the comlink and turned to the wide panorama window. Rain poured from a sky without a moon. She visualized the story that she had sketched out in the morning. 'I think Boba will like it...' She smiled at his small reflection in the glass...

"And soon, you will have a baby of your own to bath," Jango said quietly behind her, sending Boba off to bed... and for the merest millisecond, she regarded him as something other than a vicious rapist. But as he straightened up and threw the wet towel over his shoulder, she caught a glimpse of his helmet sitting on a nearby shelf, and the truth of what sort of man he was came crashing back in all its ugly reality.

She settled down anyway, escaping Jango's scrutiny into another realm...

"_After the land below was freed of its largest terror, the eight-headed snake, more princes were delegated to rule the land in the mighty Storm God's wake who had chosen to become the ruler of the Land of Shadow, between the roots of all the living things. _

_One of them was the Prince Plenty, son of the heavenly Goddess of Creation. The young prince had a hard time among his eighty brothers, who were never happy with what they've got and some of them even strong enough to pull land closer to their own domain using a rope and an anchor._

_His adventures begins to pick up pace when he wandered to court a princess whose family held many rice fields in the Land of Reed. As usual, he was lagging behind his eighty brothers, seeing not the slightest chance to win the competition._

_Walking along the shore the young prince heard a miserable whimpering and immediately went to find its origin. He met a hare huddling against a rock, its bare skin crusted with drying salt. "Oh you poor creature, what happened to your fur?" he asked, picked the small rodent up and sheltered it against the wind that cracked its sore skin._

"_I wanted to see the Rice-Paddy-Country" the hare told the young prince while he carried it to a well with fresh water "but I could not swim... so I made a bet with a sea monster that there were more hare on your island then there were monsters in the sea. It declined proudly, so I asked it to line up with its brothers all over the inner sea so I could count them. They did and I jumped from back to back ...to back... pity the last one got suspicious and ripped all my fur out before I could escape on dry land... and I had such a beautiful white fur..." it sniffled, "but when I spotted a splendid parade coming down the road, the pain was forgotten - temporarily. They counseled me to bath in the sea and dry off in the wind... ohh..." the hare whimpered in memory._

"_That sounds like my brothers... I'm not sure if you were acting very brave or very stupid," Prince Plenty reprimanded the little rodent while rinsing the salt off "but you certainly are an exceptional hare. I can't promise you anything about your fur, but I'll see what I can do against the pain." The prince covered the hare's sore skin in the pollen of sedges and left it in the deep shadow of a tree next to a trickle of clear water to heal._

_Prince Plenty hadn't quite made his sleeping accommodation for that day when the hare caught up with him, shimmering silver white in the moonlight and obviously completely healthy. It squatted down beside the fire place, its long ears playing in the evening breeze. It thanked the young prince sincerely and proclaimed that the princess were to go to Prince Plenty instead of one of his brothers who showed no kindness. When the prince lifted his head from bowing deeply, the hare had transformed into a cloud of silver fading in the moonlight, but the prince's initial wish and the proclamation of the god became true._

_However, each of his eighty brothers felt more worthy than the youngest prince and in their anger and jealousy, they plotted to kill him. On top of that, the princess herself was as spoiled as she was beautiful. When the young landlord went to his chores, some of his brothers invited him to help them hunt a huge boar that terrorized the countryside, while others heated a large rock and pushed it down a mountainside towards their brother below. Thinking that it was the boar, he attempted to catch it and was burnt to death." _

"See what happens if you don't do your recce properly?" Jango piped in.

Tomoe stiffened slightly. While Boba had listened intently but silently, his dad probably preferred yesterday's story after all. She didn't want Jango's comments. In fact she didn't want him at all. But for now, it was her story and there was nothing he could do about it.

"_On the high plain of heaven his mother, filled with grief, appealed to the gods and Prince Plenty was restored to life again. But even the intervention of the highest of gods didn't stop the eighty brothers from making a second attempt to take the young landlord's life, by crushing him in the fork of a tree. Again his mother appealed to the gods, and her son was brought back to life. Since it couldn't go on like this, the goddess of food and creation then sent her son to the realm of the shadow, to seek the counsel of the Storm God who now dwelt in the underworld, after his exile from heaven. _

...Where we meet him again... tomorrow." Tomoe closed her story, kissed Boba's forehead and moved out of his bedroom silently.

Jango caught her at the doorstep to give her the news: "I'll be gone until 1800 tomorrow, that gives Boba a day to catch up with his homework. I expect you to take care of that."

"Of course, Sir." Tomoe bowed and left to get some rest herself. A full day in safety would be heaven. The ward she had placed on her doorstep was unchanged. Life was good.

.oOo.

Chapter 4.2 – Nightmare and Vision

Jango's watched her walk away, her step soundless and fluent as always. "Beware of spoiled princesses... damn right."

He went to the bathroom and started shaving, watching his own reflection in the mirror. Had she no dignity? Where was her warrior soul when he needed to stoke it? He could tell she was raw, this time tipping to cornered aggression instead of another foul compromise. He just needed to apply a little more pressure, provoke her some more and she would break. He would stand that expectable outburst. Afterwards she would know all her struggling was useless. Maybe this week, maybe the next. Anyway, he would be there to pick her up.

"And I'm not 'somebody', Tomoe."... but as the boss, he had to prepare tomorrow's exercise.

.oOo.

Tomoe's finished her nightly hygiene and laid down in the expectation of a 'free' day.

"Sleep." She sent her mind drifting as she tried to find some warmth under the thin blanket. _"You continue to live in disgrace..." _Jango's gravelly voice whispered in her mind. "No." She shook her head and tried to sink deeper into the mattress for warmth. Once she got clear of the worst cobwebs she started questioning herself carefully "Shamed? Am I?"... her strand of thought was interrupted promptly.

"_Easy, you won't be hurt." _His firm bulk pressed against her back, warm and comforting, "You accepted it." Her nagging inner voice teamed up with Jango. "_Udesii_" His scent filled her nose, male and alive. "I didn't." she defended herself. His crushing weight sank into her soft stomach. She could not fight, she could not resist, she could not breath, but she smelled him nevertheless. "That's not logic. Stop it. I want to wake up... wake up... Wake up now." -_ "_You did." The voice mocked her mercilessly.

Tomoe sat up in bed briskly, fighting for breath. The nightmare still clung to her. His callused palms ghosted over her sides, warm against the cold air of the room that made her shiver. She felt her nipples stiffen.

"You co-operated... You took your pleasure... You made him enjoy it."

"_I will take good care of you..." _the unseen hands wiped her forehead gently.

"No..." she muttered. "...no more shig past eight. Just let me sleep now." She was death tired yet unable to put the complaints of her mind and body aside. "_Udesii_ ...Be careful what you wish for..." the voices continued their whisper.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE TAKEN CARE OF!" Tomoe pushed the blanket off her knees "I can take care of myself." She went into the bathroom, got dressed in her freshly washed and still damp clothing to wander out into the black and white night of Tipoca City...

"Patience. He won't let you go."

She felt numb, like her nerve endings had shut down to the artificial surroundings... aside from a nervous itch running down her spine. Tomoe turned to the double door leading out onto the vacant landing pad and lifted her hands to the dim night-light above. She felt nothing... had she grown a pelt?! She stepped outside into the pouring rain. At least she could feel the downpour beating on her shoulders, the wind whipping her hair around her face.

The touch of the elements was soothing.

.oOo.

Tomoe sat down in the centre of the platform cross-legged, unbraided her hair and opened the knot of her belt, placing her knife beside her. Her body became an extension of the durasteel below, her breath united with the storm and her tears flowed freely with the streaming water...

Then she saw a corpse drifting in the sea, ripped apart by the creatures of the alien stormy sea. Her own face was watching her from empty, blood stained hollows.

"Moro!" she called out, slamming the name into the creatures' hungry throats. A slim agile shadow parted the depths, its dark otter fur gleaming like silver the light of a moon far, far away. The protective spirit circled her, a ring of fluent and effortless energy.

The animal shape melted into her and a surge of power threw her back into her body sitting on the platform unharmed. Then she became Moro. The weight of her strong neck and pointed muzzle pulled her head down, her body lengthened and adapted to water as well as air, webs spread along her sides and grew between her fingers. Long black talons raked over the durasteel, and then caught a hold on the tide. A strange darkness fell around her. Pitch black. Incomplete... until she channeled it.

Suddenly, the sight cleared. Weightlessly, her spirit soared high over ridges formed from baked red rock. Desert plains spotted with structures that looked like termite mounds. Huge towers she had never seen before. The sun warmed her skin as it highlighted a round shape staring up at her like a sore eye. It was an arena deep down below. The pit was bubbling with thousands of winged beings.

Aliens, machines as well as mankind became swarming masses, bent on bloodshed. Two dark beings overlooked the fighting crowd as the scene was enveloped in billowing red dust kicked up by thousands of feet. The blood-red cloud shrunk into a black, dented sphere. Green flames shot out of it and united into a single beam. Unbearable brightness spread like a wave and from the centre, a monster rose its twin heads, shattering and assimilating the matter of a whole planet into its baneful luminosity.

While her mind shrunk still away from the scene frightfully, the velvety blackness of the infinity re-emerged beyond the awful but fading glow. The blackness carried a spiral of stars in its protective arms, a divine being victorious over death. Tomoe soared towards its gleaming centre. "LIVE," a voice said. The spiral started spinning. Thunder roared and became a steady heartbeat. The powers of energy and matter were stronger than any manmade terror.

There were no gods. They were just reflections of the force that created stars and guided the planets. She was a part of it. Like an insect that flies through a storm untouched, she glided through space and time. The light vanished in the distance; the blackness was an eddy that pulled her down...

It was over. Maybe it had been over all the time.

.oOo.

A huge black and all but weightless shadow fell on her right shoulder. Strong jaws closed around her left upper arm as the shapeless form snuggled around her. "Moro..."

Coming out of her trance Tomoe's eyes cracked open, revealing huge black pools that bore into the golden eyes of the six legged predator. She was too alienated to feel the sting of loss. "You aren't her, Mird, you don't need to do that for me." Her voice sounded raspy in her ears. She drank of the rain running over her face and scratched the strill's head as its muzzle pressed under her hand.

'Where have I been?' Definitely farther than she had reckoned as she had called Moro's spirit to sort out her mind. She listened to the little squeals the large Mandalorian hunting animal made while coming back to her senses slowly, very slowly. "Thanks anyway..."

"Got a taste for the place, my dear?" There was no need to turn around; she could recognize the baritone voice even through the helmet's amplifiers. How long had he been standing there?

"I love the water, Walon... it will be your place again in a moment."

Inside his helmet, Vau stared transfixed. Apparently this woman wasn't repelled by water even when it came as strill-slobber all over her face. "Mird doesn't like your body temperature..." or she was too cold to move and too brave to faint. "Neither do I." He added and sighed inwardly. Picking up this woman was becoming an annoying tradition.

"It's been ...refreshing." Pulling herself together, Tomoe hung her belt around her neck and pushed the sheathed knife into the back of her pants. She propped herself up on a knee then stood slowly, holding onto Mird for support. "I supposed everybody would be sleeping by now. I needed to be alone..."

No matter what masochistic belief had driven her outside, from his clinical point of view she shouldn't have been able to move on her own! He tilted his head slightly. Unless she was wearing an insulating suit, she defied any medical textbook... But he could spot enough of her trim curves to know she wasn't wearing one underneath the soaked fatigues. Three days ago he would have testified any time that she was a delightful, fully human female. Now he wasn't sure if Jango had probably mated with the thing he despised most. 'Serves him right!'

"In fact, I'm surprised that nobody else showed up so far," Vau drawled with a look at the anklet, and squired her to the door without further ado. If Fett had finally released her, just the better. He would not tell him "...and there's always the night watch," he added cautiously.

"You are the one to know best." Tomoe smiled at the dark sentry towering over her unblinking. "What does your special eye-sight tell you now... Do I look any better?" She bent her numb fingers to wring the water from her hair carefully.

Vau switched from normal- to infrared-vision and back in a blink "Only a little." She was a faint shadow in the middle of a bright coil formed by Mird's body, jaws and legs. "If you need water, I recommend using a warm shower instead of cold rain next time - as a precaution."

"That would make it a very artificial approach… if I had one, that is." She hardly discuss with him that the cold had been more of a support than a problem and that she did not need his hypnotics to throw a trip. It would lead him to question her control – or her lack of it - all too quickly. Bad things happened to people who lost it.

"True." he stood in the doorway to keep the automatic doors open for her. 'Approach... to what?' Vau wondered, and then decided for the direct inquiry. She had always been honest to him in the past. Brutally and unafraid sometimes. "Who is Moro?"

'Did I talk in trance? Did he watch?' she could not remember. She had to go home and note down her memories and impressions while they were still fresh. The door slid close and excluded the pounding rain. "Moro is an old friend of mine." Tomoe stated evenly. "Not unlike Lord Mirdalan," she moved carefully to avoid stepping on one of the pushy strill's six bouncing paws or the trashing tail, "just wandering far away ... unless I call."

Once out of the rain, the strill-scent became prominent. In fact, there was no place for any other scent on her sinuses. Nice side effect. A gloved fingertip angled her chin to face the black T-shaped visor again. "Don't let yourself be carried away too far."

"I won't," Tomoe chuckled and patted the strill's head lightly under its cowl of floppy skin"...not with Mird watching over me."

"Promise me."

"I promise." She bowed lightly "Good night, Walon."

"Good night." Vau sounded as if he'd smiled.

As she walked back to her quarter, she realized that he had not taken off his helmet this time once they were inside. Before she could start wondering what that meant, she made her notes, and then slept soundly.

.oOo.

_P.S.:  
>I don't mind reviews before the whole story is told. Whenever good or bad, just go ahead and tell me what you think!<em>


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Day 10

The morning gym shook the last remains of stiffness from her limbs and she loaded a second portion on her plate for breakfast afterwards to start into her 'free' day in high spirits. 'How to make the most of it?' Of course she could not do everything at once.

"Before everybody runs off again…" Tomoe joined Rav at the table and announced happily, "I've finally got my own comlink." She returned the borrowed one with thanks, "Can you tell me if the new is 'clean?'…"

"Hmmm." The girl's smile was contagious. Rav chewed on a bread stick, shoved the returned device into a pocket of her utility belt and produced a tool on the way back. She opened the housing of Tomoe's comlink, studied the contents briefly, then popped a bean-sized part out and crushed it under her heel. She handed it back after changing a couple of settings. "Now it will be alright. I don't have to remind you that there is no absolute security in communication. Use it wisely."

Tomoe took it back and nodded. "I know, thank you. There is another device I'm unsure of… I'd like to know how to treat that small blaster safely."

Rav eyed her cautiously. Every kid could handle a blaster as soon as it could hold one… it was taught as a matters of safety as ordinary as slide doors and stairs. Not in _aruetyc_ households, obviously. Rav nodded to stop that difference from pushing in between them. "Makes sense. You have it with you?"

"I decided to leave in my room until I know more about it."

Rav had difficulties to get used to a young woman who was as clueless as a baby in one moment and full of tactical consideration and self-confidence in the next. "I don't think he'll hold it against us. There is no _Mando_ woman who can't shoot straight"

.oOo.

Tomoe agreed with Rav that Boba and her would attend the exercises the sergeant held in the shooting range. "Let's kill two birds with one stone." The sergeant asked Tomoe and Boba to wait outside and went into her class.

"Today we practice interaction with civilians. When do we get in contact with civvies?"

"Infiltration?" – "Counter-terrorism?" – "Handling hostages?" – "Foreign unit training?" came from different directions.

"Correct, all of you. 'Foreign unit training' is our keyword of the day. We've got only one civvy here who's job it is to look like a unit." Rav's visor scanned ninety-six dumbfounded but determinate young faces. "Your task is to inquire about previous knowledge and available kit, then pass on customized information."

She beckoned the first pod to come forward. "We don't have all day, so every squad gets 10 minutes in alphabetical order." The kids' expressions went from surprise to despair, yet they sat absolutely still. They were used exact orders and prompt success that came in numbers. Her job was to prepare them for a more realistic setting – and less than perfect conditions.

"I don't expect you to do a complete training, just to communicate and make some progress in the time you've got. Omega-booth is used for this exercise and is off limits for all but the deployed squad. Make use of the rest of the shooting-range until you are called upon. No talking among squads before the afternoon briefing. I want you to improvise and everybody to savor your own genuine experience."

.oOo.

Tomoe expected Rav to invite her inside so she could learn by watching and listening, but Sergeant Bralor herded a couple of helmeted mini-versions of Fett outside before closing the door behind her carefully. "This is Ms. Harada. Meet Alpha Squad of the Epsilon Company."

Tomoe bowed "Nice to meet you."

The walking distance to the Omega-Booth gave the four kids plenty of time to get over their culture-shock and converse on the short-range comlink connecting their helmets. They were used to the armored Sergeant Bralor yelling at them... and of course they had seen Bob'ika running around, but this was utterly different… A human female that sounded as intimidating smooth as those scary Kaminoan medical technicians but it was a basic humanoid spec target otherwise. Armed? Non-armored, non-uniformed, non-standard… shocking! But no boots, no soldier. Civvy, alright.

"We don't know what it is, but we are going to teach it," was the mutual consent on their channel.

"I'll monitor. You take it from here, Alpha." Rav tilted her head at Tomoe whose face was a study in surprise and left them in awkward silence.

"Uhm..." She swallowed. Four little robots had her backed against the booth's counter, but they weren't pointing a weapon on her like those two Nulls five days ago - yet. "Bralor-sama - I mean - Sergeant Bralor," Tomoe corrected herself, "...invited me to learn how to handle a blaster safely…?"

"Yes, ma'am." Nods all around, their comparatively oversized weapons clutched to their chests.

Don't aggravate them further; hold your hands where they can see them… "I have my hold-out-blaster with me. Maybe we can have a look at it together?"

The civvy's speaking was inefficient, but the proposal went into the required direction. "Yes, ma'am." They gained confidence. This was easier than they had thought.

Tomoe turned sideways for them to see the blaster as she produced it from the back of her belt slowly and placed it on the counter with an inviting gesture. "Here it is."

Available kit – check. Was that cylinder in her belt a knife or a lightsaber? _'Not every soldier wears a uniform...'_ Was she one of the omnipotent Jedi they had been bred to serve? Was this the ultimate test? They had an order... Inquire about previous knowledge. "Have you ever fired a blaster, ma'am?" There - he had spelled out the unthinkable. What if she was insulted? "...No offense, ma'am." The boy added abruptly.

"I haven't, ...how can I address you, please?"

"I am RC-1693." He touched his helmet in a polite gesture, but the woman bowed again and this time, he decided to mirror the movement.

"Maybe you could show me, RC-1693?"

"Of course, ma'am." The woman stepped back from her weapon to create a space for them all to partake. He hooked his deece to his webbing, moved in cautiously and picked up the small hold-out-blaster. It fit his hand well and it was much lighter than his DC-15 sidearm. Then he noticed that she smelled different from Sergeant Bralor. Even through the filtration mask. Like a predator… like Strill ... Sergeant Vau. 'This gets worse by the second.'

"Stay away from Strills." He coughed into the internal comlink. 'You are doing fine, Three...' his brothers' voices came over his thundering heartbeat, backing him up. The civvy gave him an odd smile. In most exercises, shooting the origin of the fear knotting his stomach would have been an acceptable solution.

The boy was a bad case of stage fright, obviously. "It's alright," Tomoe said quietly. "Just carry on. I'm sure you know so much more than I do." She raised her open palm fluently, making sure that her grasp was directed away from the weapon at all times. "This is the handle and it shots bolts of energy out of this end..."

RC-1693 understood that she had left him a gap to fill. "You have to press this lever. It's called trigger." This was impossible. She was a grown-up person after all?! Their time was running out and they hadn't fired a shot yet.

"Trigger." Tomoe repeated. What had Rav done to them? The kids were afraid and they were being monitored. She tried to remember what she had been told about exercises. What expectations did those kids need to fulfill? Maybe it wasn't a good idea to single one out of their tight-knit group. 'Get a grip. Help them to cope. Ask direct questions.' Her mind was racing. "What are the other parts' names?" She turned. "Maybe your... brothers can help?"

Once asked, they could rattle down a list just fine.

"Alright, Alpha. Next." Rav's voice bellowed through the intercom. They cocked their heads at the disembodied but familiar voice, put on a snappy salute and filed out. This time, Tomoe tried to mirror their movement. "Thank you." She added, just a little wiser while she thought: 'What's next?' she turned at a low chuckle in her back. "Stop laughing, Boba... can't you see how afraid they are?"

If Alpha had turned around and re-entered the booth she couldn't have told the difference by eye-sight. 'Just try to act normal...' She bowed again "Good morning. I'm Tomoe Harada." They identified themselves as RC-something - Beta Squad, their voices coming from things that appeared to have no lips. It was disturbing. How was she supposed to respond to their needs and fears if she couldn't see their faces?

'Don't let them drop into silence.' She could extract the information from them the blunt way if that made them feel better. Tomoe pointed at the weapon laying on the counter "This is my blaster and I'd like to learn how to shoot. I know how the parts are named, but not their functions."

She got precisely the information she was asking for, then it was Gamma's turn.

.oOo.

Rav smiled inside her helmet, running the visual surveillance as a transparent second layer on the far side of her 360° vision. The girl accustomed too quickly to stay her proverbial civvy-muppet for long. But until then she would have gathered the material for a good afternoon-debriefing. That her clone commandos were breed from sociopathic stock didn't mean that they could not be taught…

"Wait a moment." Tomoe's raised voice on the intercom caught Bralor's attention. "You are not the first to do so and I'm sure there's nothing wrong with your intentions and I don't know what your sergeant is playing at, BUT once you are grown up young man, you don't just grab a woman's arm like that."

She smacked his shoulder plate with her palm lightly and turned him around to face her, thus interrupting his demonstration of firing position. Preadolescent was relative. In his armored boots he didn't need to raise his head much to look in her face and she had some ten kilograms on him _without_ that armor. Encased in bulky plastoid-alloy, he certainly packed a punch. "Ask politely and remember you are wearing armor while I don't. Having my chest body-checked with those plates hurts me more than it speeds me up."

"Yes ma'am." The boy acknowledged and stood ramrod straight. Nobody he knew would have complained about that little discomfort. But then, civvies were told to be soft. This civvy certainly was soft - in places nobody else he had ever touched was. Maybe because her Sarge hadn't toughened her up in time?

The blue visor pointed at her face, but Tomoe couldn't see how RC-something had taken her statement. Was he angry? Afraid? Sad? They were probably loosing precious time, but she couldn't go on like that and hope to be efficient. Not when Rav was bent to let her whole devoted battalion have a hit on her.

"I hope I'm not overstepping your etiquette, but is it possible for you to take off those helmets during this practice?" She made a point of addressing the whole squad to give the bravest boy of the squad time to recover from her reprimand. "It's rather disturbing for me to be cut off from my partner's reaction during training.

The helmet seals made a faint _hissing_ sound as they opened. Indeed, they looked like Prudii and Mereel, maybe a little younger. "Thank you, Delta." She nodded at them "Expect to get a lot of Ah's and Oh's at this point because you all look the same and other people don't. I'm already used to that, so let's just go on."

This time, the kids' relief was palpable.

.oOo.

By the end of Delta's ten minutes, Tomoe had managed to fire a single shot, hit nothing and was sweating profoundly. The combination of cold fear and aggressive determination of the squads started to drain her. Whenever she had managed to connect, Rav called 'next' and she had to start over. Delta had filed out and she was awaiting the arrival of the Epsilon Squad of the Epsilon Company. 'How imaginative.' She made a face as Rav's voice came over intercom "Tom'ika?"

"Yes Rav?" she called back.

"You can speak in normal voice," Rav informed her, "You are too nice. That makes them want to treat you like one of them or some practice-dummy."

"They are frightened kids under that armor. Couldn't get anything done otherwise."

"I plan to address all those problems in my briefing, but I need some additional first-hand-experience for the full spectrum. Drop down the next who touches you unasked, will you?"

"They are scared shitless already, Rav..."

"Telling them isn't enough. The information that civilians can be dangerous if they don't mind social etiquette needs to be ingrained if they are to survive. You need to be consequent for once. Don't talk - act."

"Okay… and what sort of ammunition do they pack in those rifles? Doesn't look like candy to me!"

"I'm supervising this. They are trained to stop on my command – instantly."

"I'm not convinced. At least keep Boba out of this, will you?"

"Alright. Boba, come out and stay with me."

Boba's and Tomoe's gaze met. "It's okay. I trust Rav. So should you. It's important for your brothers." She placed her finger on her lips "Wander out unobtrusively like you're looking for something to drink, maybe… don't speak to anybody but Rav."

Epsilon entered, Tomoe introduced herself and asked them to remove their helmets which they did without complaint, but somehow, they stayed well away from her during the whole exercise, just short from being glued to the booth's wall.

"You are broadcasting, Tomoe, big time!" Rav reprimanded her in the next exchange of squads

"Look… they are reacting just fine on my body language. Nothing wrong with their instincts."

"Stop filling them in beforehand. You're not their holonews station. Act normal... then _snap_... Full spectrum, remember."

"Yes, Rav." Tomoe acknowledged. She would have to be quick to stay on top of the situation and hope that nobody got hurt.

Zeta Squad entered, undergoing the same procedure as anybody else until one of them reached up to correct her purposefully cramped shoulder… Tomoe grabbed his wrist enclosed by the armored gauntlet, twisted and pulled. The constricting circular motion backed her up against the counter. Her knee pressed into the junction of chest-and stomach plates of the commando she had just dropped, her blaster-hand triggered on the forehead of his brother, she screamed on top of her lungs: "YOU ASK BEFORE YOU TOUCH!"

"CHECK!" Rav's voice boomed out of the speakers.

Tomoe stared into the muzzles of three up-powering DC-17s that were frozen on their way up. She turned her vice-like grip into a gentle hold on the raised arm while she lifted her blaster clear and her weight from the boy's solar plexus, spotting an ejected gauntlet-blade that had stopped short of her thigh. The boys' faces were wide-eyed masks, as blank as the fronts of their helmets would have been. They were ready to kill, yet there was no anger in their expression, just concentrated deadly routine.

.oOo.

Rav strode in. "This is what a lapse in etiquette can lead to: brothers dead, training mission failed, diplomatic complications ensue," she lectured unfazed. "We will work on your soft skills. Fine handling of hard contact otherwise."

Tomoe stored her blaster in the back of her waistband to check upon the main victim of Rav's lesson and her own prejudice. She had assumed that the boy would fall gracefully and be out of the line of fire. But had he had been frightened stiff like a wooden board. Now he was clutching his arm with lime-white face and still made no sound, but she had been informed of her miscalculation by a sound snap followed by an oddly soft feeling. "Sergeant Bralor? I think we've got a dislocated joint here."

Rav had expected her model-civvy to hand out a hit, a hard shove or kick, but not to pull a complex, armor-defying stunt. The girl was full of surprises. "Zeta, dismissed to transfer RC-1713 to the medbay."

"If you allow, I can reduct the joint here if there is no bone fracture. The sooner the better for recovery." Tomoe felt along the body glove under the plate armor. She had targeted wrist and elbow but it was the shoulder contour that was awfully off. "Hold on to my hand… No, look at me, RC-1713, I keep the bone from slipping around further." Once his adrenaline wore down, he would feel the full pain. "Don't move, I mean you no harm. I'm sorry for this accident."

Rav considered briefly. The Kaminoan medics were obsessed with what they called 'quality control' but they didn't get their hands dirty in field medicine. Med-droids could not be around wherever her commandos would be operating. The damage was done, but the more they could do themselves, the better. "Okay. Make sure you describe what you are doing. RC-1714, you help Ms. Harada to remove the armor. RC-1715, prepare to scan for fractures. RC-1716 get the medkit."

RC-1713 watched with grim resignation. It dawned on him through the pain that he had made a mistake, a very stupid one since everybody else was fine, standing around him staring. He had not passed the test. He was no longer fit to fight. He would be sorted out. He barely felt his brother unlatching the armor-plates and peeling the body glove off his arm and shoulder while the civvy still held onto his damaged arm. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Tomoe saw the boy's pupils widen, reached over and locked her fingertips firmly on points along his cheek and temple "Stay with me, RC-1713." Persuasion would work better with a real name. "I need you to tell me which moves you can do, which hurt and which are restricted. Once we've made sure that nothing is broken, I'm going to pull on your arm and slide it back into the original location. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am." The boy stared past her hand puzzled. The civvy cared?!

"Good. You need tell me when it hurts. This isn't a moment for bravery." She checked the function of his wrist and elbow down to the location of blood vessels. "What does that scanner tells you, RC-1715?"

"I can see no fractions, ma'am."

"Neither can I." she returned her attention to her patient. "Take a painkiller now, then I'm going to pull. Afterwards I put a bandage to hold your shoulder in place and then you can get some rest." Rav assisted by drawing up a syringe and then flicked it a couple of times.

"No... no, I can take it, ma'am. No need for an injection." Brothers who got injections didn't make it.

Tomoe shook her head. Such a brave boy frightened by a small pinch. "It will make it easier for both of us. Just a small pinch. You need to rest afterwards anyway, so don't be afraid of eventual side effects."

The boy insisted "No, Sergeant Bralor, please tell her I don't need an injection yet."

"Okay. Your strength won't make it easy for me, but the dislocation is fresh so I should manage without." Tomoe sighed and applied pressure to several points on his neck and shoulders to numb his nerves temporarily. "Relax. I'm not going to force you." She wiped her hands dry on her pants one by one to have a secure grip and placed her foot in the boy's armpit. "Relax all you can. I'm going to pull on three. Breath. One... Two..." she pulled, turned and let it slide back into the position where the boy's well-trained muscles took over. She inhaled deeply and felt it was right. "Three." She added.

"That was only two?!" RC-1713 coughed at the stab of raw pain through his shoulder, and then it subsided to a more bearable level.

"I cheated." Tomoe winked, checked the location and placed the boy's arm over his chest which had not been possible before. "How does that feel?"

"Feels better." RC-1713 savored the flicker of hope that he would not become useless today but stay with his pod. Aware of the instructor watching, he stood for Ms. Harada to complete a bandage that secured his right arm to his chest tightly. "Thanks, ma'am."

He meant it when he rearranged his webbing, moved his side arm over to the left side, slung his deece over his shoulder and reached for his helmet. Replacing it would be a little tricky, but once inside it's familiar surroundings, he would be fine. His pod gathered the armor plates that couldn't be returned with the bandage blocking their fixtures.

'What have I done?' Tomoe questioned herself. A kid's rough manners could never justify such means, no matter how professionally violent they presented themselves. 'He's only ten... no, five years old, for creation's sake! He should play and know no fear or pain.' Her stomach turned and her hands were shaking from the constant strain she had applied. "I need a break NOW." – "Five minutes." - "Sergeant Bralor," was all she could manage. Tomoe bowed and headed out to find a fresher.

.oOo.

Outside, Boba leaned against the wall stoically and waited. He had heard Tomoe's dampened yell and watched Rav enter the booth. Then a Zeta-RC run for the medkit. Something didn't go as planned, obviously, but as long as there was need for kit, it wasn't complete _osik_. 'Let's hope Tomoe is alright.'

The whole Epsilon Training Company made a show of minding their own business but had to take notice nevertheless. Alpha- to Epsilon-Squads wondered what had gone bad with such a harmless meeting. Eta to Psi pondered how to extract a hint how to pass that exercise alive and unhurt despite the order of silence among squads.

Omega compared Zeta's delay with the time remaining to endex. With a little luck they would be spared by schedule almighty. So they continued hitting their targets unfazed and argued if civvy-remains would require a manual cleansing of their booth during self-study-hours. They shared their calculation to boost the morale of the neighboring squad as well: "Hey Psi… just four minutes longer and you are safe as well."

Boba suddenly found himself in the centre of attention. Eta-Squad prepared to go in and inquired what he had witnessed so far and why he had left. Bob'ika wasn't a squad member, after all. "I can't tell you." He blocked with stubborn face. After all, they had snatched his caretakers attention away from him. It wouldn't be long until somebody remembered he had homework waiting and then he would be alone again.

"Why is Zeta stuck in there when Epsilon passed their ten minutes apparently untroubled?"

"I've been out here - just like you." Boba shrugged, then suggested: "Maybe because they are E'n'E like Escape and Evasion…?" the smaller boy suggested. "Good for you, Eta." Sometimes his clone-brothers needed a shake-down from their growth-accelerated 'bred-to-be-the-best'-attitude.

Rav re-emerged from the Omega-booth tailed by an RC with his arm in a sling and his three Zeta-brothers. Tomoe was nowhere in sight. "Eta - Next!" Rav's voice cut through the rambling. "In you go." She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. Boba bounced after the death-serious Eta-squad happily. _His_ Tomoe was fine.

.oOo.

Tomoe used her break to splash cold water over her face and think. What she had started out of harmless curiosity had turned into a very serious thing. She was aware that Rav used her in a way. Probably in the same way Sergeant Bralor was used by Jango Fett herself. On the other hand, she had been supported by Rav without question. She owed her, alright. But she certainly didn't owe her to hurt kids. She needed to come up with an alternative, and quick.

If she could prevent them from making mistakes under Rav's scrutiny, _all_ of them would be safe. Think ahead, order directly, complete obedience, no reprimands, no problem. 'And if we get something wrong, I can still masquerade and pretend that everything is fine ...as long as they aren't climbing all over me like their favorite tree house.'

She pushed away from the sink and went back into class to meet Eta.

"Hello, I'm Tomoe Harada... Would you take your helmets off, please? ... Thank you, Eta." The four boys faces betrayed no deeper emotion than polite interest. "Your predecessors have been so nice to instruct me on the functions of my hold-out-blaster, but my mark is still off. Can you help me, please?"

"Yes, ma'am." Two instructions completed on first sentence. Not bad. The civvy wasn't difficult or aggressive at all and kept her movement obvious and slow for everybody's comfort as she retrieved a small blaster and readied it.

"Can you demonstrate the most basic firing position for me?" she made way, keeping her hands and weapon relaxed and in front of her body.

The one standing next to her cocked his head then retrieved his sidearm and turned to the counter. "Like this."

Tomoe copied and addressed another boy. "Does it look right to you, RC-1717?" When the small soldier stepped in to correct her, she simply dropped her hand and he took a step back. "Just _tell_ me."

"You need to place your hand on the grip a little higher."

"Thank you." She repositioned her hand, and raised the blaster again. "Better?"

"Yes. Try a shot." This time, she hit the vicinity of the target. "Your wrist wasn't straight. You need to lift it a little more and keep it still. You are shaking."

She lowered her blaster, relaxed consciously and tried again.

"Push the blaster forwards and imagine a straight line to your body to absorb the recoil." Another try, another advice.

"Hold it firm but don't cramp. Pull the trigger smoothly."

A couple of shots later it worked better already, but then the power-pack of the hold-out-blaster was drained. 'Rav's problem', Tomoe thought. She was fine with ending the exercise this way. She placed the weapon on the counter with relief. "Thanks for your help. Eta... Do you have any questions yourself?" she asked to kill the remaining time. Talking was better than any other 'education' that send kids to the med station.

Eta had done as ordered and was now looking for a possibility to excel and make up for Zeta squad's mistake. "What happened to RC-1713?"

"It was a training accident." Tomoe could tell the boys were not convinced, so she detailed. "I was asked to demonstrate how a response to unrequested touch could look like. I meant to drop him, not to hurt him. It was entirely my fault."

"Did he attack you, ma'am?"

"No. He just overlooked some etiquette."

An ill-equipped, uneducated civvy surviving a short-range attack on Zeta was a very curious thing. Eta's scrutiny went from the hold-out blaster on the counter to the strange cylinder in the civvies belt down to the socked feet and back up to her face… "What weapon did you use?"

"My free hand." Tomoe cut him short. No way she would let this exercise turn focus on her knife.

They had seen no blaster-burns to disprove her claim so they continued to inquire in cross-question… "Do all civilians react like you?"

"Not at all. Most people would avoid a conflict by adjusting their distance, maybe say something or just walk away with a bad impression... it really depends on the situation, your relationship and culture. Put your hands on the wrong being and you'll probably end up dead or on a slave market."

"How can we tell?" - "We didn't make a mistake yet, did we?"

"Nothing wrong at all with you, boys. I think you are confident kids who do their job well. Use your instinct for distance as you do in fighting, but with the opposite intention: don't press on to intimidate but try to make your partner feel safe and comfortable. That's the origin of all politeness... Don't worry, you can always ask if you are unsure of a situation. It is polite to care. You care for your brothers as well, don't you?"

There was a quick exchange of glimpses among them. "Comfort?" They would operate with their brothers in less than an arm's length and never miss a beat, even bear each other's full weight in cramped surroundings without complaint because of discomfort. Only weak people cared about comfort. They were hard, superior beings who cared only for their brothers and kit that would put a dent into the enemy.

"Behold the space between you and me compare it to the distance you keep to your brothers… or to Sergeant Bralor. Then you look for an acceptable balance between comfort, safety and efficiency."

"Yes, ma'am?" They acknowledged. No brother in his right mind would approach Sergeant Bralor or a Kaminoan technician unasked... their 'comfort' distances to Sergeant Vau and his Strill was identical with Tipoca's training ground's diameter.

"If I was wearing armor, or if I was taller or if we met in an open range, you would have increased our distance without a second thought, isn't it? On the other hand, we could cramp into an elevator without feeling uncomfortable as long as we share the available space fairly and don't try to stare each other down..."

"How can you tell that we are staring when we are wearing helmets?"

"Maybe not a hundred percent. That's what makes your visor uncomfortable for onlookers, but never assume that people won't make up their mind based on less than the whole picture... Besides, you've got a refreshing direct body language." She added with a small grin at the flinch which gave away that Eta wanted their buckets back over their heads right then.

"Your protective instincts are well honed, but I foresee difficulties when you continue to have your relationship with the rest of the galaxy over your weapon's scope only. It would be better if you had more options to choose from than fear and aggression."

The boy next to her pushed his chin forwards stubbornly. "I don't fear you and we did not engage." He defended himself.

Her smile widened. "That's a good start."

Rav's "Next" resounded again, but there was no comment to her present lack of ammunition. Tomoe thanked them and bowed, then Eta-squad left.

Boba strolled over to his busy caretaker casually "He's lying," he informed her "That strill-stench on you compensates for your lack of armor ten times over..." he cracked up at her expression "They are just afraid to show it while I'm around. I bet the Delta-RC bumped into you because of a lack of oxygen," he teased. "What did you do last night?"

"I had a stroll around the block and met Lord Mirdalan." Tomoe sighed. "I washed afterwards. I really did. Do you have an idea how much I lounge for a real long hot soak?" She was aware of her less than perfect appearance but it was Boba who had reached the end of his patience for the day. She would have to ask the next squad to give him a task as well.

"Uhm... I did notice." Boba tried hard to straighten out his impression at the entry of Theta-Squad.

The procedure started over with a commando's borrowed DC-15 side arm blaster, this time including their smaller brother. Again, she found that Boba was doing a great job next to all the bigger boys of "his age".

.oOo.

"Hey Tom'ika." Isabet intercepted Tomoe in the lunch break "How was your first shooting lesson... feeling de-sacred already?"

"Fine, yet it's not quite an irresistible forbidden fruit." Tomoe grinned back and shook her cramped arm out. "I learned everything about power packs, recharge times and settings. I could probably do _real_ damage now... by throwing the handbook." She shrunk her shoulder and loaded her plate. "Alternatively, I could jump over the precision-distance of my hold-out-blaster."

Isabet laughed out loud, "Priest's not as stupid as he looks."

"I've heard that," came a deep rumbling from a nearby table. Tomoe blushed, mouthed "oh" to Isabet and stood beside Boba and Rav quietly.

"Stop fishing for compliments, Dred." The woman in yellow armor barked back then sat down and dug in.

Tomoe decided to pick up a different topic before Isabet's temperament went into full swing. Her own need for trouble was clearly covered for that day. "You didn't ask a single question yesterday evening, Boba. Do you want me to continue that story or find you another one?"

"Uh no... I just keep wondering how this prince made it into a tale at all... he's such a loser." The boy wrinkled his nose.

"Because he didn't compete? Maybe he's just a realist, don't you think?"

"Hmm." Boba considered "Couldn't you have made him a little quicker at least?"

"He was last when it was of no importance but first when it counted... and the story is far from complete yet."

"But it got him _killed_."

"Nothing's ever perfect... but many weaknesses can be made up for and mistakes can be forgiven when you are kind and take care of your friends. Nevertheless you need to be careful what you wish for... you might get it... and get yourself in trouble."

"Dad... his wish got him into trouble, didn't it?"

"It's just a fairytale..." Tomoe mused in surprise, pinned down by Boba's stare. "Maybe... He's strong. He will get over it." Now the boy hung his head. She lifted Boba's face with a knuckle under his chin "And I am not a princess... just a tomboy with dirt under her nails... and as you've seen, I can't even shoot straight like any Mandalorian woman should. He will make up his mind."

"You want to leave, isn't it, Tomoe?"

"Boba, you and everybody else have heard my promise."

"You've lived that perfect life before. One day, you shrug this all off and do away with the memory like that dirt under your nails..." it broke out of him.

"No. I won't forget you, Boba."

"Please don't leave me alone again. I hate waiting."

"I won't." Tomoe promised again, hugging him close. For once, Boba didn't mind.

.oOo.

Rav had that thoughtful expression on her face that didn't automatically bore well for her surroundings. "Could you spare half an hour for my afternoon debriefing, Tom'ika?" she asked absently "I'm going to use Epsilon-company's flash-instruction-time to arrange the gathered material and want to go over a couple of points with them afterwards... around fifteen hundred."

Tomoe exchange a look with Boba who nodded hesitantly "Yes. Just drop me a call, please."

"Oh... another thing, Isabet. Our Tom'ika forgot to mention that she can do physiotherapy."

"_Kandosii_! We were missing a decent bone cruncher here. It's more of a hobby for Llats and Gilamar has a preference for scalpels."

"The boss knows. It's sort of the reason why I'm here."

"Good thinking on his part." ...It really wasn't what Tomoe wanted to hear.

.oOo.

"Light 50 %, buckets off." Rav strode into the classroom, followed by Tomoe. "I'm going to show you the summary of this morning's exercise and raise the points Etiquette, Respect and constant Vigilance." Rav announced with all the capitals audible and started the holo.

"Here's the first squad, Alpha, trying their intimidation-number on our civvy instead of starting with a detailed introduction. Not the best foundation to inquire about confederate resources. Good for Alpha that Ms. Harada decided to ignore it. You still enjoy children's reprieve. Once you have reached your full spec bulk, most civvies won't wait for you to present your intention to them but run or cower. See how carefully she is moving?" Rav pointed into the blue figures moving over the desk.

"This is NOT an act. This woman has never put her hands on a blaster before. There are many others like her out in the galaxy. It's civilians' spec to be lowbrow about weapons. And if they can handle a blaster, it's the E-web or the Proton missile launcher that confuses them. Expect nothing. Get used to start training with the technical bases. It will give you the means of communication... that's what Alpha did for the rest of you..." she switched to fast forward mode.

"Even though she doesn't know anything about a blaster yet, Ms. Harada implements the weapon seamlessly into all levels of her communication." Rav narrated, "Her mix works on Alpha and she starts to establish the scheme: 'I ask the questions, you answer the questions' – here - By the time Beta-Squad enters, our clueless civvy has already assumed command. That becomes the recurrent theme of the whole exercise. I don't need to show this again - you've ALL got your own experience to resort to." Sergeant Bralor looked around the classroom and made a mental note to start the next exercise with Mu or Omega.

"You have to find ways to keep your own initiative – without intimidation. You are trained to be the best. Be confident. You have something the others want. There is no need to shove foreign units around in training. If you get it right, they will run for you on their own. – Here's Delta's fruitless experiment with full body contact... and here's a potential worst case kindly brought to you by Zeta. No, don't let that haunt you, RC-1713, your little mishap turned up a weak point in our armory program just in time." Bralor played the scene again in slow motion. "Got that move, everybody?"

She picked out an Omega-Commando "Ms. Harada, could you give us a demonstration?"

Tomoe stepped into the widening circle around the presentation desk and bowed in front of the boy indicated by Rav. "May I?"

"Yes, ma'am." The boy clutched his deece to his chest. "Please leave your gun to your brother for a moment. I'm going to move very slowly during this demonstration. Try to follow my move, but voice your pain or pat on my body when it hurts. I'll stop immediately. " She lifted the boy's wrist with one hand and bent it with the other, then turned slowly. "I bring the wrist joint to its blockade point, then the elbow joint on it's outer blockade point... about 45° - here it is... that one's a little tricky... and keep moving so the rest of the body has to follow. The quicker I move, the bigger the forces becomes, up to maximum damage like fragmentation of wrist or elbow."

Tomoe moved out for a restart of the move "And here is our problem: (keep your arm stiffer this time) A tense triceps lifts the upper arm plate a little. Then, on the second bend, the upper-arm plate jams with the shoulder plate and then the full force is concentrated on the shoulder joint which can result in an anterior dislocation. Hurts like hell and looks like RC-1713's shoulder now - after reduction, which isn't comfortable either. I recommend two weeks rest, by the way..."

"Thank you, Ms. Harada." Sergeant Bralor shut her up quickly. "This is the style in which demonstrations to confederates are given. I'll raise the shoulder-plates-issue in the next armory meeting and you will practice this move under secure conditions in the next hand-to-hand exercise. Your assignment: figure a suitable defense against such rotating techniques and find a way to keep your plates from jamming up on you."

Rav strode back to the hologram and placed her armored knuckles on the edge of the table, leaning slightly forwards to scrutinize her training company. "Surprise: our civvy can fight." She stated dryly through the frozen, translucent presentation of five human beings ready to kill each other for no palpable reason. "Civilian or soldier, female or male, ally or opponent, the only condition under which they are unlikely to give you trouble is DEAD. Until then it's constant vigilance for you. You need your confederates alive and unhurt, so try to avoid problems beforehand. Mind your etiquette. Treat them with respect. And most important: always keep an eye on your allies." Rav let it sink in, and then asked for input "What else is curious in this sequence?"

"The hold-out was ready and aligned, but Ms. Harada did not shoot RC-1714 before check-command."

"Right. Civvies tend to use their weapon not only for killing but for negotiation as well. It's their weakness and your advantage. You will encounter many amateur's lofty ideas about fighting, ranging from terrorist-sieges to peacekeeping with weapons. Negotiation is for officers. Republic Commandos don't negotiate. When you engage you don't stop killing until the enemy is wiped out or you are ordered to stop."

Rav swapped scenes. "Here's Ms. Harada's view on civilian etiquette for you as a starting point." Bralor replayed the speech to Eta full length. Tomoe blushed deeply. Was there nothing private here? Her words had been meant for the moment, not for a large crowed. "I want you to monitor your own actions in different day-to-day situations according to the rules of thumb given by Ms. Harada and sum up your ideas for improvement in an 800-words-essay until the day after tomorrow, eighteen hundred." – "Yes, ma'am."

"Epsilon Company: dismissed."

Chapter 5.1 – In the Shower

Tomoe excused herself quickly and was on the way back to Boba before Epsilon Company filed out of the briefing room. The small one's notepad sat on the table when he answered the door, but it didn't look like he had completed more than a single exercise.

"I'm finished. Let's go." Bob'ika announced with a crooked grin.

"Let's do that 'catch up' your father mentioned in record time, then we can go outside and play, alright?" Boba made a face "Direct order, soldier." She added. He returned to his pad and she fetched them two cups of _shig_. The whole place looked remarkably friendly... without his old man.

Tomoe unpacked her own pad and made notes for tonight's bedtime story. 'Uagh. Sometimes, I hate writing romance!' she thought ...it would trigger more stupid comments for sure... but it had been Boba's special request and she had already an idea where to continue. She went to the panorama window and patched poetry lines together from her memory. For once, it was easy. Then she turned to the table, took out a stylus and wrote the words down in long fluent columns. 'Nice.' She let out a chuckle and held the sheet against the light. '_Master_ Fett can put that under his cushion if he has any questions left afterwards.'

Boba looked up and announced "Five minutes" – "Okay." The boy was quick once he was sufficiently motivated. A little attention was usually enough to achieve that. Tomoe finished her cup of _shig_. They had a look into the sergeants training room. It didn't matter that they were a little late, with a whole battalion gone into full range exercise, the instructors who stayed at home were either busy to make the most of the additional space or they were specialists who accompanied the exercise.

Tomoe reached for a wooden practice weapon herself and went over the same moves as last time. Boba was doing well, but he was far from the perfection that any master at home would have required before raising him to the next level. After half an hour, Boba's patience was up nevertheless.

"What did you do use on that Zeta-RC?" the boy tried to change topics.

"A wrist and elbow lock."

"Show me, please!"

"Tomorrow... after I made sure you can fall... You think you centered that slice enough?" – "Sure." – "Let's try it on a different floor then..." She moved her lesson outside on a vacant landing pad. "Continue." After the first slip that put him on his ass, her pupil was already less convinced of his progress.

Tomoe's socked feet looked glued to the ground where ever she came down. "You need to build the ability to do that at any pace, in any space, on any terrain. In the end, even the steel becomes obsolete."

Boba looked down the length of his practice weapon. The grip was slippery in his hands from the downpour. "Before this is eaten up by rust, I hope."

"Not while you sit around." She extended a hand and pulled the boy to his feet. "Keep moving. Stay warm." Another load of salty spray hit their backs.

"At least it doesn't smell as badly here." Boba teased.

"Plenty of time for clean-up later." They continued... Tomoe was about to call endex as a flight rushed low over their heads.

.oOo.

Jango had taken the first battalion into a full range exercise at 0400 in the morning. Basically they had pitted Kal's Arca-company against Vau's Bravo-company, tested the kit of the transport- and logistics-platoon and given the pilots a chance to escape their simulators. He had overstaffed their administration support group to a size sufficient for four battalions, one independent group for each company and two for the ARCs which he split 50/50 among the two sides.

There was no possibility for a realistic deployment of full trooper battalions, so the commandos would stand in for the infantry as well and gather some basic experience on the way, complete with com-problems, bad intel, flash-bangs, nerf-innards and self adjusting screw-ups.

Without practice ammunition, the vast majority would have ended up in body bags by the end of their little game of war. Instead, the walking 'dead' had been called to a staging area and the medevacs had enjoyed a slow day. A single LAAT was enough to pack the occupied bacta tanks. Kal and Vau's companies had locked jaws once deployed and his ARC's were just what they needed to make the day of all the RCs miserable, but the highlight of the day had been an EMP lobbed into Vau's rear-command-centre by one of Kal's Nulls.

The instructors were still debating how the Nulls had managed to bypass the codes, but Jango suspected a beforehand-slice into his preparation files. He would have a look into that together with their Sullustian encrypter. Whenever the EMP-enforced shutdown was any more unfair then Delta-Bravo's attempt to slot Arca's transport-platoon or not, the communication between Skirata and Vau was on their preferred freezing point.

All in all it had been a field day... and the best was a hot shower, warm meal and ... well, not pre-warmed bed waiting for him. Jango spotted his real home Slave I sitting on a landing pad... and two small figures moving on a nearby vacant pad. He blinked. His helmet enhanced the view "Make this a low approach" he directed the pilot of the transporter.

'Why there?' He thought and watched the downdraft kick mist and spray of the elegant sweeping surfaces below. The walkways could be dangerous on a stormy day. Not to mention cold. He would have a look into that as well.

.oOo.

Tomoe craned her neck "We better go inside." She bowed to her pupil.

Boba bowed back and pushed his practice saber under his belt with a wide smile "Yes, dad's coming home!"

Tomoe checked her comlink. Untimely indeed... said the schedule. She would not be rushed to leave a path of wet footprints and puddles all through the spotless corridor just to meet Fett half'n hour before the agreed time and drop a wet and freezing kid on him. Their shower room was properly booked with Rav's help, a package with a dry change of clothing for Boba sat just inside the door.

Boba gaped at the facilities spacious enough for a whole company to shower at once. "Whoa... we could have practiced in here as well."

"Half the fun." Tomoe replied dryly, dropped the package and her hairpins on a bench, wrung out her belt, pants and tunic and peeled down her socks. She slapped her clothing into the cleaning station in the corner of the shower room together with Boba's soaked fatigues. "Let's hope that machine will get rid of Mird's odor marks. I'm running out of ideas otherwise."

"Let's hope it doesn't spread on _my_ clothing. I don't want to stink, too." Boba's clanked his teeth and rubbed his thin shoulders. Couldn't she hurry up?

Tomoe folded up a towel and placed it in reach when she stepped under the shower, raising the water temperature slowly so it didn't burn their cold skin. A shower couldn't replace a steaming tub, but it was nice nevertheless and ten times better than the washbasin in her quarter last night. She washed her face then started lathering the boy's hair. He had beautiful thick hair, unspoiled by wearing helmet. Nobody had been inclined to cut it to clone soldier's standard length. She was thankful that at least one clone was allowed to stay a kid a little longer...

"Aren't you afraid that somebody could come in?" Jango's speaker-alternated voice penetrated Tomoe's moment of serenity as he strode in unhurriedly, his armored boots clanking on the tiled floor. "Arca and Bravo are back," the fully armored mercenary announced. With the help of the anklet, it had been as easy to catch up with his target's movement as to follow the wet footprints. But he had not expected Tomoe to share her present state of undress with his son as frankly as they bathed like that every day.

The threadbare woman's formerly relaxed body tightened, rippling muscles disturbing the smooth gleaming curves. "No longer." She retorted as her widened eyes landed on him. The red _kyr'bes_ glared at him from her back as she reached down and snatched a towel from the tiles. The rising and falling of her rapid breath gave the skull a life of its own. The mark just highlighted what had been there all the time. A fire that couldn't be extinguished. His.

"_Su'cuy_, dad!" Boba pushed the water from his ears and smiled. Dad coming home early plus coming for him right away was a rare treat.

Jango had expected his little spitfire to jump his throat upon entry or make a runner for the second pair of doors ...which he had jammed shut by security system remote. He had a hold on her escape as well as her aggression. Whatever way she lost it, in the end she would have to notice him, truly notice him - not the warrior or the leader, but as a man.

But her voice stayed as level at his. Apparently she had bolstered her nerves nicely instead of crumpling any further towards his goal. "_Udesii_ (because it always fired her up nicely)... You've got nothing I haven't seen already. Go on..." He tilted his chin up at her for a moment, clasped his arms loosely in front of his chest and continued to watch with appreciation.

Keeping Boba behind her, Tomoe turned slowly on her armored nightmare. The folded towel covered next to nothing... but it dried her hands. A good grip and some free space was all she needed. 'Come get me,' she thought. Whatever he had planned for this shower session, all that fancy deadly kit would not help him to take her alive and conscious. It wasn't animal fright versus armored control anymore. If he wanted to play with fire, she was warmed up nicely.

The pulse point on her neck was jumping madly. Jango had not forgotten how quickly that treacherous smooth pace could turn into an explosion 'C'mon, give it a try...' he smiled despite the fact she could not see through the visor. He knew she would fill that gap from her memory nicely. 'I'm as ready as I can be and you are all soaped and out of hairpins.'

"This shower room was marked on the duty roster as 'vacant'." Tomoe explained patiently, "I changed settings to 'occupied' before I came here. As you can see, it _is_ occupied now. Use the room according to its purpose or get out." She managed to sound perfectly reasonable.

Somebody had explained things to her. A _lot_ of things. "Uhm..." She didn't even decline his presence utterly?! He could not help the loud exhale he released. "...thank you for your offer." It would probably take a couple of very explicit comments to rattle her calm demeanor. Which wasn't a good idea with Boba around. There were plenty of possibilities to come. For now, he really enjoyed the display. He was not going to spoil this by rushing.

Boba wrinkled his sensitive nose "What's that smell, dad?" the boy peeked around Tomoe's bare thigh. He would prefer Mird's rancid perfume over that rotten stench any time. In holozines, the kids were supposed to get dirty all the time, not the adults. He really needed to tell them to get normal.

His son knew how to pick his moments... "I suppose some nerf-innards rubbed-off on me..." the T-shaped visor dipped at the kid's soaped white hair "I haven't done that since Boba grew out of bathing in the washbasin." Jango commented gravely and stepped under a nearby hose, water splashing off the silver plates in all directions.

The close-up of his woman's pert, rosy nipples made his mouth water. The switch from true visual to the penetrating radar's soothing green outlines was suddenly an unfeasible blink away. His hands developed a will of their own that yearned to know those smooth shapes, to span her waist and to explore the firm roundness of her hips, the long expanse of her legs and that secret, feminine place between them... rotten timing! He clenched his fists.

Boba made a face. He had really enjoyed what was now called childish. Dad could wash himself, period.

"You guys really have no bathing culture here." Tomoe shook her head at the grown-up original and hesitated briefly. Would she be pounced upon once she returned her attention to Boba? 'No... I know you too well, Fett. You've a thing for control... and you like to provoke your prey before you pick it off. But I won't jump for you to call the shots. There you go...'

"C'mon, boys don't shrink in the wash." She put the towel down carefully and turned to rinse the lather off Boba's head carefully so the suds stayed out of his eyes. She washed her own hair afterwards, demonstrating on the way that she couldn't care less what Fett was doing. She felt acutely alive, yet she could not decide if it was because of his intense scrutiny or his plan backfiring.

'Sure, just the opposite.' Jango felt his entire body become very hot and very cold at the same time, defying the environmental controls of his suit. His passion ignited with urgency driven by days and nights of carnal frustration, years' worth of frustrated, unfulfilled desire. But he could not retreat now. Once the stench was rinsed off his outer shell, he would try an ice-cold shower on the issues underneath. He hoped she would be gone by then, otherwise he couldn't guarantee for anything. Control was rapidly spinning away from him.

"Would you scrub my back, please?" Tomoe asked Boba sweetly, keeping an eye on Jango "I never missed a bath with my dad when he came home... (Fett barely managed to switch off the amplifier before a hoarse groan tore itself from his lips)... but I have to admit he was far more relaxed and talkative than yours." She bit back a giggle. Nerf-innards or not, the fully armored mercenary standing under a hose was quite a picture.

Tomoe rinsed off, picked up her stuff and retreated to the bench to wrap Boba in a large towel before she toweled off herself. She retrieved their washed and dried clothing from the laundry and got dressed. Her comlink beeped... "Yes?... Yes, I'll be there in a moment." She gave Fett a very pointed look over her shoulder that made him feel like he was six years old again. Her gaze was nearly as good as a splash of ice-cold water. "I'll be back before nine for your story." She ruffled Boba's damp hair and headed out.

Jango swallowed hard as he realized she still possessed no underwear to go with the customized fatigues. Another detail that would return to haunt his waking moments. Desire clamored through him, hard and overpowering... couldn't that wait for a more opportune moment?! She had left Boba in his care. 'You can handle it. Cool down. Think of nerf-innards.' At least his armor was clean down to the body glove now. He switched to drying mode and had to swallow again, before he could finally force his voice to co-operate. "Smell any better now, son?"

Boba dressed himself and sniffed "A little. That body glove needs a real wash."

'Fierfek!' - "I'm going to change for dinner then," Jango called retreat and father and son went home without further comment.

.oOo.

Jango grabbed a change of clothing and vanished in the bathroom. He removed his numerous armaments, staked his protective shell, peeled down the body glove carefully and switched the water temperature to ice cold. He was braced for the pain as the first splash hit him.

But of course it wasn't enough. He was too used to ignore pain. The tension had been coiling inside him during the battle he had overseen without engaging. The confrontation with Tomoe had transformed it from battle lust to sexual lust that he had ruthlessly suppressed because of his duties to his son. Now it boiled to the surface abruptly.

His memory replayed the images of her. Drops of water rolling down her exposed abdomen as she rose and faced him. Tomoe did not fear him. She laughed at him. She mocked him and had fought him like a Krayt dragon. He narrowed his eyes at the surge of frustrated arousal writhing inside him, burning his blood.

Nobody would see his control shatter in the fierce dark depths of his eyes. "Enough!" The command came through gritted teeth, his voice guttural nearly beyond recognition.

Jango drew a deep breath and changed the settings for a different effort to regain control. A warm tingling spray of water hosed down his muscular shoulders. He could no more stop his body's urgent, dominant instinct than he could stop the flow of blood in his veins. He craved to taste her, to be buried deep inside her; to hear the moans she made as he drove into her.

Resting his hand upon the tiles, he let the water flow over his head, soaking his thick black hair as he hesitantly touched himself. In his mind's eye, he had her pinned against the tiled wall, her hair wild around her face as she beckoned him closer with her long slender legs clasped around his waist. His left hand remembered how he liked to be touched.

He bucked heavily, his head thrown back and his neck corded as he shook and pulsed, riding out the waves of white hot pleasure, until he stilled completely and sagged heavily against the wall. A sob erupted from deep within his powerful chest as he washed himself clean. He turned off the water, feeling sudden rage at himself as his flesh tingled again, teasing him. His body was satisfied from the orgasm, but his mind found her no less desirable than before, quite the opposite.

Jango donned a fresh body glove and restored the armory, staring at himself in the mirror while his hands did the job mechanically.

He had a problem.

Chapter 5.2 – Field Day's End

Sergeant Bralor stood outside of a meeting room that overlooked the training grounds below as Tomoe strode down the corridor, her shortened hair flying like a fluffy black cloud to mid-back

"You know I have an eye on your vital signs, Tomoe. I thought you had gotten a rid of the thing last night, but what was that just now?" the older woman inquired without bothering to take off her helmet. She had to stay in touch with Isabet for coordination. Despite the rush the girl's pulse had sunken back under the threshold value that had triggered the alarm in the middle of Rav's meeting.

"I'm sorry. Fett is back and waltzed in to have a shower in just the very room we reserved."

"You okay?" Rav inquired. The girl certainly looked all fired up.

"Sure." Tomoe grinned "Imagine a guy taking a shower in full armor," she winked.

Rav's chuckle resounded through the amplifier. "I hope you kicked his _shebs_ for trying?"

"The bruise on my knee from kissing his cod-piece is barely faded. So that's a no… and the reason why he'll probably walk funny the rest of the evening."

Isabet inquired why Rav was laughing so hard… and word got around.

"Thanks for taking care of me."

"No problem." Rav tilted her head, speaking on another channel "Yes, I'm going to ask..." she sighed but played the parrot "Kal called Llats to treat some Arca-RCs and Isabet told him you've got talent..."

Tomoe nodded. She was fine helping as long as she wasn't the origin of the pain. "Where to?"

"Yes, she's coming... Your comlink," Rav pulled up a holomap "Jetty five, this way." Her gauntlet pointed, then excused herself "I have to return to my meeting."

"Thanks." Tomoe jogged down the corridor, following the red thread in the blue chart.

.oOo.

Rounding the corner of the pier, she could not spot Isabet in the crowd of hundreds of busy commandos and equipment. She rounded a pile and nearly recoiled at the sight of a screaming yellow Mythosaur-skull staring back at her from green and grey armor. Who or what was that?

"_Duraani, burc'ya_?" came from the green and yellow helmet in the middle of a tempest of organized chaos.

Tomoe fixed her gaze on the T-shaped visor as she had been told to be polite and held her hands well away from her sides. "_Ni'cuyi olar jorcu Isabet'ke'gyce_." She jumped to let a repulsor-vehicle pass. It held huge cylinders filled with green liquid and... her attention was jerked back.

"_Mar'e_!" Isabet turned to her, revealing Kal standing next to her. Sergeant Skirata was wearing sand-golden plate armor, the helmet tucked under his arm. "_K'olar_!" The woman in yellow armor beckoned her over. The jetty was crowded by armored boys unloading supplies, six of them forming something of a calm perimeter around the two adults, hesitantly giving way to the warrior in green and yellow...

"Good evening, Isabet." Tomoe side-stepped another group on the way to her friend "How can I help?" she asked quietly and listened in.

"_Nar'sheb_ Kal, I don't crunch cervical vertebrae for medical purpose. I'm a warrior and a historian, not a healer. Ask a med-droid to give the boy a painkiller and his problem will probably resolve itself in a few days."

Skirata wasn't soothed "_Probably_ isn't good enough for me."

"This is not the time to practice. I have other patients waiting. Get the wharf age done then take that Null to the med-bay," He tilted his head at Tomoe "...or have the _aruetii_ give it a try..."

Tomoe bowed slightly, her eyes locked, fighting back a retort. Who was that guy? Fett's old man? "Thank you Llats. I'll take it from here." It didn't need a shove for the circle to make way for her, but they all looked the same to her down to the tense stance. "You look very different today, Kal." She smiled.

"Do you do physiotherapy?" Skirata snapped impatiently.

"Where I come from, it is believed a warrior should learn to fix as much non-lethal damage he can do." She raised a shoulder and smiled. "Your decision if that is good enough for you... What happened?"

"N-7, report."

One of the clones tipped his hand to the helmet in a polite gesture "Got thrown into a wall. My neck cracked soundly but didn't break. I can walk and I'm fit to fight, there is no paralysis in my hand or feet, but the bones keep making strange sounds and I can't turn my head properly... there is a uncomfortable pressure here and here." N-7 closed his description and pointed at his helmet.

Tomoe sighed. "You are not bleeding under that helmet? Do you feel warm liquid coming from your nose or ears?" – "No" he stood stiffly and avoided to shake his head. The boy made it here, so the armor had kept everything in place, obviously. Change to horizontal position or let him walk on? The clones attitude to pain wasn't helping her diagnosis. 'Keep the head up.' She decided "Could you dispatch somebody to take us to the med-bay and help me with the armor, Sergeant Skirata? I want to run the available checks before I do something."

"N-5, take N-7 and Ms. Harada to the med-bay."

"Thanks." Tomoe bowed, helped N-7 through the busy crowed and set a smooth slow pace once they squished through the worst. "You will let me know immediately when you feel sick, won't you?" she asked the wounded then addressed N-5 "If he is, I try to keep his neck steady and you undo the helmet. Otherwise I'd rather leave the helmet on until I know more. Do you think we can cut it open?"

N-5 (she had to monitor positions constantly to tell the boys apart) was utterly unconvinced. "The coating material is as good as indestructible... unless you accept that the brain is fried within, that is."

How tactful! Tomoe winced inwardly. It wasn't what she needed. "I won't... I'm sure we'll get the thing off smoothly with your help." They entered and Tomoe was confused by all the panels, devices and med-droids with a multitude of arms. Since she could not remove the facial mask and then the rest of the helmet or just reach under the edge deeply enough she needed different means of analyze.

"Try to keep the same position as before, N-7." She advised and tried conferring with the med-droid. If it had not been a machine she would have sworn it felt ignored by her attempts to mingle in its medical affairs. "Yes, I need you to check the basilar skull and the cervical vertebrae for fractures and leakage. Afterwards scan for damaged blood vessels and nerves."

The droid beeped. N-5 leaned back against the opposite pallet "You're lucky they are late handing over the EMP-proof version."

The droid complained he couldn't get his probes in properly and N-7 popped the helmet seal "C'mon, it's not so bad. Let's get over with it."

"I said: Don't move your neck or the helmet yet!" Tomoe hissed. The two clone-brothers were less obedient to those in the morning, so she detailed. "If it's what I think, you can suck it up five minutes longer to be sure, commando. I'm not so full of myself that surgical support in stand-by stops to be a reassuring thing to have. That's what careful planning and a plan B is about, you understand?"

"You are very careful," came the speaker alternated voice from inside the helmet

She studied the first scan, N-5 peeking over her shoulder "Looks okay. All plates down to the waist have to go, and then we take the helmet off." She helped N-5 to shell his brother, then Tomoe slid her hands up along N-7's neck for support and together they eased off the helmet.

"I'll let go now slowly, N-7. I need your honest feedback, no bravery. If it hurts more, holler."

N-7 lifted his hand "Feels _better_ already. The helmet has its weight." He felt her hands smooth over his neck and his hackles rose.

She scrutinized him for bruises or tell-tale signs of a fracture. "Now we try rotation. I know you aren't comfortable, but stop at any raise of pain-level." She guided him to face right, then left, noting the restricted angles. "Now down... and up... okay." She went for pressure points along the side of the ridge and he winced. "C-2, 3: left. C-5 right..." The environmental seal at the neck of the body glove restricted further investigation and she had to call upon N-5 again to strip her patient to the waist.

"Bend down slowly with round back, try to roll down vertebra for vertebra." She mapped her way further down. TH-1...3/4... and 6... okay, straighten up..." her hand rested on his shoulder soothingly to establish body contact. "Would you get me a stool, please, N-5?... Sit down..." Thanks to creation he wasn't grown out yet... "Cross your arms in front of your chest... hands on your shoulders." She noticed a flinch as she grabbed his right wrist to fold up her patient up. "You are Mereel, aren't you?"

The boy cleared his throat. Names were a very private thing... maybe the only personal possession he had aside of things given to him for grim purpose. "Yes." He admitted.

"...and you are Prudii." It earned her a nod of the ARC who was monitoring every move she made. She smiled "Watch and learn. This technique isn't too difficult and can help a lot. You take a hold on the wrist... or elbow in this case... and pull back until the targeted section of the spine rests against your breastbone. Tighten the bend. Relax, Mereel. Breath... in... out... then pull firmly on exhalation and bend your own body back successively..." several pops became audible. She sat him up on the stool before she let go.

"Noisy." Mereel commented, "and better." He smiled, still turning his whole body instead of his head only.

"That were TH-3 to 6. Raise your hands over your head. No we go for TH-1." Tomoe slid her own arms around his muscular frame and clasped her hands behind his head. "Let yourself sink back against me. Breath. In... out..." Her voice in his ear took on a hypnotizing quality. She felt him relax and pulled for all she was worth until the vertebrae relocated. "Get up... move around a little... loosen up. That was a stubborn one, wasn't it? I could use an assistant by the end of the year if you continue to grow like reed."

Mereel rolled his shoulders and extended his arms, wiggling his fingertips. "Much better. Can you teach me that?"

"If Sergeant Skirata gives his approval, I can... now to the neck. Don't try this yourself until you know exactly what you are doing. Sit down. Let your arms hang down, put the right over to your left..." Tomoe placed her palm on the nape of his head and directed his chin into the croak of her left elbow. He stiffened violently. "Relax, please." She tried again. He grabbed her arm harshly. She opened her hold and placed her left hand on his shoulder, bending over for eye-contact. "I need you to relax, Mereel, or it will cause you unnecessary pain or fail... Don't fight it. Relax. Breath. I can give you a painkiller to help you." Then she felt the tip of a knife in the nape of her neck.

"You are _not_ going to snap his neck." Prudii voice was low and level... the detached aggression all clones seemed to have in common. He wretched her sheathed knife from her belt. "Let my brother go. He's fine."

The med-droid started vain exclamations. Tomoe lifted her hand off Mereels shoulder slowly. "I thought we left that phase behind us, Prudii... of course Mereel can go whenever he wants. I mean no harm. Put your knife away, please."

"Turn left. Face the wall... closer... feet away from the wall." Prudii directed and Tomoe obeyed without question. He frisked her briefly and produced the hold-out-blaster from her pocket. "Hands behind your neck. Down on your knees." The boy inched back carefully, checking for the progress his hurt brother made donning his armor, his side-arm in his other hand aimed on the kneeling woman. "Stay put."

Tomoe situated herself in the requested position. "It's alright. Sergeant Skirata will tell you where to take it from here. Please ask him to drop me a call later, will you?" there was no further comment but a scramble of armored boots and the swiff of the door. She let the seconds tick by before speaking up again. "Prudii?"

There was no answer. She was about to turn and have a glimpse around as the door hissed open again.

.oOo.

Llats blinked twice at the young _aruetii_ kneeling on the floor of the med-bay... alone. "What are you doing here?" he looked around the room as if it was booby-trapped.

"I'm trying to treat some scared kids with guns." She took her hands down and stood, smoothing down her pants. "Have you seen N-5 and N-7?"

"Yes... and they were in quite a hurry to get away."

"I see. Well, seems I'm done here for the day. Where do you keep the med-records?" Tomoe fished in her pocket for the comlink.

"I'll get that N-7 back to you in a few," Llats harrumphed, and then probed carefully "any success on his deviant neck?"

"Partly. Bone and tissue scan turned up nothing serious. I resolved blockades on TH-1, 3/4 and 6 without problems." she shrugged her shoulders and made a mental note. "The cervical vertebras C-2, 3 and 5 will drive N-7 back to medical care... sooner would be better than later. He has to wear that heavy helmet all the time... I need to call Sergeant Skirata." Tomoe excused herself and figured the address.

Llats strode over to the info-station of the med-bay, shutting down the hysterical droid with a probe to port on the way. He would have a look into the machine's records later. For now, the reaction of the woman was far more interesting. Unfazed. Full of concern for the kids despite they went at her a moment ago. He could respect that mind set. But the Nulls's unruly behavior could not be tolerated.

"Hi Kal... did Mereel and Prudii show up again?... Yes... No, I'm not finished yet... Prudii was afraid I was going to harm Mereel's neck... No, I'm not injured. Tell Mereel to report back when he's in pain. Anytime... no... no hard feelings. If you could ask Prudii to return my knife and blaster, please? He can give them to Rav or Isabet as well... Thanks."

Tomoe closed the connection. "Dinnertime," she announced with a smile into the black T-shaped visor surrounded by a green and yellow paint-job. "Do you come along? I'm starving," she invited.

"I don't think so. Stay put. I'm going to get N-7 back and you'll put that neck right _now_."

"Sir, please leave them alone." She clasped her hands in front of her. "He'll be back in his own good time."

"Nulls have to obey like everybody else."

"Maybe, but I won't treat _anybody_ against his will... Null, RC... whatever letter of the alphabet you call them." Tomoe answered stubbornly.

"I'll make him want it."

"No sir, you can't do that. Whatever you have in mind, it won't make Mereel trust me."

"He doesn't need to trust you, just to do as you instruct."

"True... But I do. I can't do anything for him without his trust... Sorry, Sir. Feel free to consider me a helpless case." A cutting edge seeped into her voice. "I'm going to have dinner now."

He shouldered past her on the way outside. His armored frame and the huge gun in his hand filled the width of the corridor easily once Tomoe had scratched herself off the doorframe. "You. Wait. Here." Who did the _aruetii_ think she was to question his methods and best practice in general?

.oOo.

The yellow Mythosaur-skull that decorated Llats' chest plates glared at her and the mark on her back was searing her skin again. In this very moment, she hated him from the depth of her heart. Him and all he represented to her. He would not be rattled in a fight with her bare hands and three darts... as sturdy as she had made them. But she would not be violated again. Neither in body nor in proficiency. And she certainly was not to violate a boy who was taught nothing but killing.

Tomoe seemed to rake her hair briefly in exasperation, two of her hairpins sticking between her clenched digits on the way down. She diverted Llats gaze by sinking on her right knee with deliberate ceremony, then suddenly upped the stakes. "Llats Ward, I consider your behavior dishonorable. For yourself as well as for me. You are a disgrace for all medics in this galaxy. You _disgust_ me. I won't support yournauseating brutal practice."

Ward stared down at her. There was an edge in her voice but there seemed to be no fight in her. Did she threaten to puke on his boots or what?

"I could not live with this _shame_." She lifted her right palm to her throat gently, then suddenly changed her grip so the tiny knife on her carotid artery became visible. "Get. Out. Of. My. Way." She stared at him, her throat bared to the narrow pointed blade.

'Whoa...' Llats stopped up in save distance. "I see you've got poetic role-models... and full B-grade for the elegant poise... but did you think that through properly?!" he bent in his hips mockingly "Now I have to ask what you want, isn't it?" Whatever her motives were, he would not surrender to blackmail.

"Free passage. I'm going _now_ this way or the other."

That request was anything but complex, but he didn't like the way he was treated. "Just curious. Your passing will change… what exactly?" He challenged and slung the rifle around onto his back. He needed to have his hands free. That small woman would not make much of a grappling opponent.

"You think your shiny fortress is invincible, but it is rotten like that skull on your chest. Make way or see it fall." Crouched into a tight ball teetering on the edge to drop forwards into the blade Tomoe let the second dart slip in her left just enough for the tip to find the notch in the band around her ankle.

Ward dipped his head in an unimpressed pose, secretly thankful for his visor. It dawned on him that he would not be quicker on her throat than her when push came to shove. A compromise was in order. If she made a runner in the opposite direction, he would just let her leave. "What can I say? I bet that toothpick is too blunt even to hurt your fair _aruetyc_ skin..." He faked a lunge at her, clapping his gloved hands in front of her face "BOOOH!"

"Not a classic, just old." Tomoe commented unflinching and caught Llats's gaze on her neck by slicing through skin slowly while she rammed the second dart into the innards of the anklet. The 'toothpick' was sharp enough obviously. 'Let's find out what Fett does to put Ward's priorities right… after the destruction of two prized possessions at once over some republic cannon fodder's training-details.' She wanted to see the beginning of the end if she were to go.

"Ouch. That must have hurt. You are bleeding, there," Llats pointed.

She laughed dryly "Too late, _gaijin_."

A giant's hand closed around her right wrist in a vice-like grip and an armored elbow crashed down just in front of her collarbone. The other hand took a hold on her cheek and jaw to press it away from the blade as she was pulled up and off her feet. Her next breath filled her nose with Mird's odor marks. She stopped her left hand from making an attempt on the muscular long thigh in the black body glove behind the matte plates. It wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway.

"I'm impressed by your stealth, Walon," Tomoe commented.

"Well done, _ner vod_." Llats nodded at the taller _Mando'ad_ reverently. "Take her into the med-bay. I'll be right back."

"Just passing through." Vau wretched the knife from her right and picked another from her hairdo. She passed him the last one on her own and Walon eased his crushing hold. "Interesting style of discussion, Ward. It would be wise to keep your hands off Ms. Harada and avoid such trouble. Believe me, she wields more impressive faints than bleeding into the corridor for your evening entertainment."

"She denied a direct order."

"Yours?"

Tomoe could see his gaze under the slightly tilted visor, picture him looking down his nose with contempt at Ward from half-lidded green golden tiger-eyes. It seemed the message was transferred to Llats as well. He had overstepped his boundaries. It didn't take Vau another comment to make the mercenary in green armor excuse himself for the evening.

.oOo.

"Thank you." Tomoe's slim frame shook from unspent adrenaline. While she could walk through under his outstretched arm with her head held high, for the moment she was contend to lean into him. "Hello, Mird." She acknowledged the six-legged predator's crouched approach. The tip of its tail flinched nervously. "Missed you already. I'm okay now."

"You have an interesting way to drive your point home, little one." His baritone voice drawled through the speaker as he ushered her back into the med-bay. "Choice location to acquire a cut."

"One moment." Tomoe stood away from him and lifted her chin to the end of the corridor Llats had blocked a moment ago... open corridor was better than closed surroundings to avoid misunderstandings. "Rav?"

Sergeant Bralor rushed around the corner to see what was wrong -this time- , incensed by the alarum and the unbroken line where Tomoe's pulse should have beeped periodically. The girl was on her feet, no cardiac arrest - obviously.

Tomoe rolled her head back gently to ease the tension of her neck. The superficial cut burned, a thin strand of blood ran from it and stained the collar of her tunic. She lifted her hands a little in excuse. "Sorry I made a mess again."

"Could you save my nerves and use your comlink instead of that anklet next time, please?" the older woman reprimanded Tomoe then sighed at Kal who limped around the corner with some delay. Her old friend's dose of painkiller for the day was wearing off for sure and his fractured ankle was acting up again... He really didn't deserve to be chased around like that.

"When I called you, Kal, I didn't expect Llats to become over-interested in Mereel's treatment the next instant... or rather _obedience_. I certainly would have asked for your support," She took a deep breath "...but I could not imagine that Ward's ideals and mine would clash that badly."

"Like what?"

"Ward thought I had to treat Mereel even against his will. I don't think so. He tried to enforce his opinion on me physically. I threatened to jump ship if he did. Vau broke up negotiations," Tomoe closed.

Skirata grumbled, and then directed his rage on the black sentry towering over Tomoe. "Since when do you know where to put your muscle, you big bald Wookie?! What's your problem with the word 'exercise' anyway?! Where did Delta get the idea they could use their knives freely during non-live-round practice?"

"You transport platoon saw no reason to surrender at point blank and that EMP was damn real as well. My penetrating-radar is still fried."

"Arca won. Throwing my boy around after we called _endex_ won't change a thing."

Tomoe's gaze bounced from one man to the other. The unequal characters had their own dirty laundry to wash, obviously. Rav rolled her eyes. This was getting old.

"Winning is winning and get-away is get-away. N-7 has to learn to avoid being caught in the act." Vau patted Mird's head absently.

The only missing step to a hell's discussion was Fett rounding the corner... and there devil impersonated was, taking a more distinguished pace than Rav. Of course, _his_ radar wasn't fried like Vau's. Tomoe faced his scrutiny briefly before he turned his attention to the three Cuy'val Dar.

"_Me'vaar ti gar_?" Jango asked for sitrep.

"We have a disagreement about what's best practice in training and how to handle... accidents." Rav explained in general terms and in Basic to include Tomoe.

"What's she doing here then?" Fett pointed his chin briefly.

"Tom'ika agreed to assist me a little."

'Did you?' he thought and regarded Tomoe in the 360°-display without turning his head. Rav seemed to have made remarkable progress on integrating the stubborn young woman into their community. "Assist on what exactly?"

"Training. Physiotherapy. Useful things like that."

"Where does that cut come from?" his hand shot forwards with lightning speed, catching her chin between his gloved fingers and turning it from side to side to look at her throat. He had also noticed that her cherished knife was missing.

Tomoe frowned at his manhandling of her. The air was out of her act anyway, so she wiped it off the plate with a quick excuse "I cut myself while shaving."

"What?" Jango was as startled as annoyed. This had to be the poorest excuse of the year.

"The hairs on my teeth." She opened her lips into a toothy grin. "You must have noticed." If he was behaving disrespectful, she wasn't going to miss a beat.

Kal bit back a laugh and decided to pack it in. He needed to look after Mereel. The boy would not pop up while he was tongue-lashing Old Psycho. Rav piped in "Hurry for dinner or mess room's closed and we all go hungry tonight. I've got a couple of points to rise as well." She snatched Jango by the elbow.

"I'll dress that cut in the med-bay and follow you in a moment. Thanks again." Her politeness was lost to three armored backs; one red, one silver and one sand-gold. Vau had managed to slip everybody's conscience like a shadow. Not an easy feat for such a tall guy one should think.

.oOo.

"Come," Vau now sought her company and walked Tomoe over to a cubicle with dressing material. "Please sit." He removed his helmet with measured movements and placed it on a nearby pallet reverently, then opened up a disinfectant wipe to swipe the blood away that had run down her neck and gathered on the collarbone before soaking her fatigues.

Vau's gaunt face held a look of concern at the depth of the cut. As he had expected, her threat had not been empty. His hand tangled in her dark tresses as he steadied her head. The tall man perched on the edge of the pallet beside Tomoe. Her warm female scent was intoxicating, mixed with the metallic aroma of fresh blood. He lowered his lips to the base of her neck tentatively. She was pliant like warm wax in his hands and he wasn't going to miss the opportunity.

He kissed his way up her collarbone and throat lightly, tasting her skin and blood as his tongue ran over the burning cut sensuously. A small moan reverberated deep in her throat. He licked her clean with wide strokes like a cub. Tomoe shivered with pleasure when he kissed her fully on the lips, tasting her own blood on his tongue as he invited her to taste him. Walon pulled back slightly to look at her, breathing hard at her response as he drank in her soft flushed impression.

Then her eyes went wide and unfocused as the moment passed, her palm came up to rest on his steely biceps, but it was neither grip nor push "Sorry... I'm not ready for this." - "I know." His hands continued on their own, all gentle profession when he skillfully applied bacta, taped the edges of the cut closed and slipped the wipe into a belt pouch unnoticed.

For once, Tomoe did not mind the smell of the green liquid. She sat frozen, her mind racing 'It was him who threw Mereel in that wall... so did you... I can't... but... I'm going to fix it.' He released her and turned to leave, looking for Mird. She slid off the pallet to her feet. "Where are you going?" came out as a mere peep.

"Skirata likes to take it out on Mird and he's a bit frustrated tonight." He replaced his helmet, returned her darts and watched her rearrange her hair. "Have a nice dinner."

Tomoe bowed "Thank you."

Walon wandered home, still savoring her taste on his tongue. He had taken a small risk and had been rewarded two folded. Doing recce had rarely been as pleasant. Even the treat of a bantha steak he shared with Mird paled in comparison.

.oOo.

Tomoe placed her dinner tray on the table and slipped into the vacant seat beside Rav silently, not trusting her own voice yet. Kal limped by on the way into the med-station to check upon his boys. Concern deepened the etches that split his old face.

Isabet finished slowly the bland mixture they called dessert. "I thought the Llats and you would click together well, since you are both storytellers."

Tomoe answered between two bites "Maybe it was a bad moment... or we just like different stories... or it is deliberate disrespect of my heritage."

Isabet shook her head in disbelief. "I don't understand how can you get along with Old Psycho but jump out of your skin at our historian?"

"Vau's a polite man and he respects my right of choice. Ward's respect is proportional to the amount of sheet-metal on a person and his obsession with the sigil Fett etched into my skin on a slaver's block marking me as his property is all too obvious."

"Oh... I didn't know." Isabet excused herself. Rav nodded silently. She should have known.

"I don't take it well to be mistaken for property. I don't accept any other bonds but my own word of loyalty to your _Mandalore_ – as in top-hierarchy here, not to Fett personally nor to his historian - and command is limited by the same constitution that goes for you and any other _Cuy'val dar_. Loyalty does not come without honor and responsibility. I don't obey Ward and I don't obey dishonorable order in general."

"Okay, okay..." Isabet cut her off. "I got it, no need to particularize. I'm sure Llats understands that as well. Let's start looking for a solution instead of complicating the matter further."

"I could try to explain my motives after he slept over his rude behavior, but not today. I need to prepare for another appointment. Did Mereel show up already? I feel better with my kit in place."

"Not yet." - "No... but I'll fathom Llats' point of view until then. We'll smoothen that out, I promise."

"Do that by all means."

Rav shook her head. Tom'ika's fuse with adults was a lot shorter than with the kids. She was so obviously different that it gave her the benefit of experiments without undermining her own authority. Yet the girl had by no means less pride than herself. 'And she really needs a pair of boots.' Rav thought as Tomoe stood and left without further comment.

"I think it's time for a little collection..." Rav detailed to Isabet and stood to announce it with details "Who is willing to make charitable donations such as small-sized shoes, boots and clothing and maybe a blanket or two? I take everything from textiles to sheet metal." She offered and scanned the hard faces around the room. But there was movement... once the usual doubts were dispelled...

"Fett's going to provide that with the next supply shipment anyway." – "That's next month and we don't know that for sure."

"What's in for me?" – "Tom'ika's offered her help without posing that question, but there's no prohibition on side-deals if you've got something special."

"Have a good look around, _ner Vod_... you've got the will to contribute, but we don't do 'small'. We are big boys." – "C'mon, Dred, big is beautiful. You've seen that she's good in fitting stuff."...

.oOo.

Jango had a quick dinner at home with Boba, and then had a look at the security protocol of that corridor before he had to attend the debriefing of today's exercise. He replaced his helmet and went over the visual feed. There was no audio, but he had seen enough. "Shaving, my ass..." he would have a word with Llats right after the briefing.

As he passed through the medbay on the way to the meeting, he found out that the surveillance-data of the room had been corrupted and the med-droid was off-line and missing records as well. Jango sat through the gathering fully concentrated, his mere presence keeping Skirata and Vau from getting into it again. He modified the closing-line by a "Ward, with me." His colleagues filed out, and Fett turned his attention on the data-feed of the holo-emitter. "You going to explain that?"

The picture of the _aruetyc_ girl kneeling in front of him came up and Llat knew that 'oops' wouldn't cut it with Fett. "My apologies. We had a minor disagreement that went out of hand."

"Be specific."

"She was stubbornly supporting N-5 and N-7's insubordination."

While Tomoe certainly was a stubborn one, insubordination wasn't a 'minor issue' for an army. Even though obedience was no problem with clones in general, Fett guaranteed for military standards and for that he had to rely on competent instructors. "The Nulls are Skirata's assignment. What exactly did you want from Harada?"

"I requested her to finish therapy on N-7. Of course I would have caught the evader for her."

"Is she competent?"

"Naturally, the post-treatment scan of N-7 is still missing, but I can tell he was already fitter than before she laid her hands on him. I checked the records..." Ward slipped a data-chip around the diameter of the emitter in the table, "N-7's diagnose was done most carefully and Ms. Harada successfully treated a displaced shoulder in the morning. Yes, she is good at it."

"Skirata will deal with N-5 and -7. Request more subtle next time. I need her alive."

"I'll be."

"Fine. I need your analyze, Ward."

Out of a shaken blur, a different picture came up, a peaceful view at the back of a slender woman that perched on the side of a kid's bed and had just started telling a story. The record wasn't very high quality, but unshaken and Llats recognized Fett's son, Boba. Never taking his eyes of the emitter, his brows shot up in surprise that Fett would share such a private scene with him.

Jango watched Llats' mesmerized expression with a slight smirk. Two choice-methods to stop their tough historian... a plasma cannon round on his chest-plate or a sentence beginning with 'once upon a time...'

The record froze up at the woman standing to her feet and Llats reached over for the holo-emitter's controls for a narrated re-play.

"Plains of existence and natural places mix, time is of no importance... all of that is typical for terra-forming legends. Natural phenomenons are impersonated by gods and monsters. Serpents as in meandering rivers and floods, or earth slides that destroy land, earth that breaths fire: volcanic activity. The presented problem is approached with human wit. Hair often stands for power, vitality, sexual prowess... hair and comb... quite a picture." Llats smiled to himself...

"The number eight is repeated, but I'd need more local background to tell what it stands for. The battlefield is reinforced as precaution... Fences - or floodgates are built..." He laughed at the woman discussing tactics imitating two deep voices "I think now she's improvising a little for the sake of action. She's really good at it..."

Llats realized that he was probably enjoying himself too much and returned to narration of the subtext immediately. No need to anger his leader further.

"The superior strength of the opponent isn't blocked unyielding but redirected by an alternative offer and successively diminished. Patience is rewarded and accompanies the violence that leads to victory... Another serpent-river analogy... Iron from river sands maybe? Weapon technology transfer? Swords stand for the killing of men, for judgment as in justice as well as personal decision... and it is a phallic symbol." He cleared his throat. "Ah, it's a sequel obviously... a peace-treaty with an equal or superior adversary is made and enables nation-building on the tamed land."

"And - what does it mean?" Fett cut short as the record ended again

"Well, lots of strings attached: terra-forming, tactical advice, ancestry... all presented in a handy, personalized action-romance-plot for easier remembrance and re-telling. It is a way of everlasting enshrinement without memorial-building - very Mandalorian in a way ...and it is instructive. Nothing makes information stick like a good story to remember. A creative, imaginative mind can draw fluently upon the embedded treasures and transfer them into any situation."

"She is instructing Boba?" Fett huffed. He would prefer to know in detail what she slipped his son by the way of entertainment.

The historian laughed "...and you... and even me. Can I keep a copy?"

"No." Jango snapped.

"Don't worry; this isn't far off the track. I don't see any danger for Boba listening to it. This Storm God for example: he is as much of a warrior as a leader and a farmer... he would have made an excellent Mandalore," Llats proposed.

Jango harrumphed, lots of things swirling through his mind. He couldn't tell everything... could he? He felt a firm pat on his shoulder plate as Llats left him to his thoughts. Was there a way to make peace? She had been hesitant to tell the story... but Boba had requested it, subtly providing him with options. He wasn't a good father, imposing their fight on his son. On the other hand, Tomoe had yielded to the boy's request and lost herself in the story for a long moment.

His son had something he was missing.

Chapter 5.3 – Tales

At 2030, Fett allowed Tomoe in with a stone-cold expression, still wearing full armor minus helmet. No better hiding place for his body's reaction than a proper shell of _bes'kar_. Kal had foretold he would be sleeping in his armor. One more step and the old _gdan_ would be right. But he wouldn't let it come to that.

Tomoe perched on Boba's bedside and unfolded a fan. In her hands, the crescent shape could become everything while she continued the tale of the youngest prince's adventures...

_After the council of heavenly gods brought him back to live, Prince Plenty was sent down from heaven to find his way to the land between the roots of all living and be trained by the mighty warrior ruling it. Walking down a deep valley, he arrived at the gates of the underworld where he was greeted by the youngest princess of the Shadow-Realm on the outlook into the bright land beyond the gate. The Princess was eager to hear more from the curious bright county that she could see but never wander. _

_He instantly fell in love with her forward style but excused himself dutifully after their encounter to complete his journey to her home, where he met her father, the Storm God, the slayer of the eight-headed serpent..._

Boba grinned knowingly. "Any nine-headed serpents to slay on the way?" he proposed.

" If there were, the event wasn't handed down in history... maybe because all the mighty nine-headed snakes suffered from hare-phobia and slithered away just in time?"

Boba giggled "Looks like our looser goes in without striking arguments then."

"But he proved outstanding taste picking his adversary." Tomoe quirked a brow and smirked.

"_As you supposed, their union didn't sit too well with the mighty and swift Storm God. His mother had left him before his birth, his father and sister had kicked him out from heaven and all his beautiful daughters had left him – safe Forward Princes. His selfish and ruthless side could not see that this weakling was his lovely daughter's first choice and, like the Prince's eighty brothers before, the Storm God decided to kill the unworthy suitor._

_In the first night, the Storm God offered the prince to sleep in a room full of venomous snakes, but he was protected by a magical scarf Forward-Princess had provided for him. Once could be luck, so the Storm God put the prince in another room, this time full of bees and centipedes, but as before, the scarf protected him from harm._

_The next morning, the young Prince found the Storm God standing on the wall of the castle, overlooking the open fields as he tried to centre himself. He held a tall bow in his left and his storm-cloud-grey hair was tied back with a leather headband. Undisturbed by his guest, the Storm God put an arrow on the string, raised the bow and pulled it down into full draw with his divine strength. When the string released with a deep hum, the arrow raced over the countryside and finally fell into a vast field. Once he came back from his state of concentration, the Storm God told the suitor "Get lost and don't return without the arrow." _

_While Prince Plenty searched for the arrow, the Storm God set the field ablaze..._

"Now that's foul play!" Boba protested soundly.

"I'm sure the Storm God would have agreed ... had he been on the prince's side. Otherwise he wasn't picky in his methods."

"_Surrounded by a wall of fire the boy was trapped and could find no way to escape. It was then that a mouse told young prince to stamp a hole into the hollow ground. He did so, and hid beneath the ground as the fire swept overhead. The mice-people searched everywhere, turned every straw to help and recover the arrow, which the prince then returned to the Storm God._

_Prince Plenty's repeated success helped the father to feel more at ease with him, so he had the young prince cleanse his long storm-cloud-grey hair from the centipedes that he caught while preparing the guestrooms. When the time-consuming process lulled the Storm God to sleep, our small hero saw his chance to escape the Shadow-Realm, along with his beautiful bride. He tied the Storm Gods hair to the rafters of his palace, and taking the god's powerful bow, sword and enchanted harp, he set off with Forward-Princess upon his back. _

_Their get-away went unnoticed until the burdened-down Prince brushed past the roots of a bush. The harp made a sound which woke the Storm God, who jumped up, destroying his castle that came down on him when he knocked over the wood work as he tried to run after them._

"Ouch!" Boba snickered

"_By the time the Storm God had managed to untangle his hair from the rafters and reach the border of the Shadow-Realm, the couple was already in the Land of the Living. But instead of being angry, he was impressed by the resilience and bravery his daughter's small suitor had finally turned out. The Storm God shouted to Prince Plenty that if he was ever to defeat his mean eighty brothers he must use the weapons he had taken... and that was what the young prince eventually did, becoming the Great Landlord God._

_Finally, when the Sun Goddess' grandson took over to rule the land of the living, he was made ruler of the unseen world of spirits and magic in compensation. He is believed to be a god of nation-building, farming, business and medicine."_

Tomoe closed her story, tucked the blanket around Boba and kissed his forehead "Sleep well." – "You too..." She pushed the folding fan under her belt, filling the space where her knife had been and left with all the fluid, rapid grace she called her own. Jango's good-night kiss was more sloppy, but he barely managed to call "Please stay with me," after her as he reached the door frame.

She stopped in her tracks. _Master_ Fett had recovered another lost word from civilized vocabulary and incorporated it the first time in a way that didn't sound like a mockery but more like hidden misery. Not an undeserved one though. "For what?" she called back and reached into her pocket for the comlink. Even without the helmet, it was too hard to fight a guy in Mandalorian armor with bare hands to take any chances. It was suspicious enough that Fett was still wearing his gear.

"We need to talk... would you come back in, please? I need to tell you something..."

She turned around "I will listen," she agreed. One couldn't teach an old _Hi-Inu_ new tricks without a little reward once he did the right thing for a change. Once he had learned his lesson, everybody would feel better and life would be easier.

Jango invited her to sit in the easy chair while he made them _shig_. Barely nipping on his cup he sat it aside and clasped his gloved fists on the table, probably to keep them from fidgeting when he started a tale of his own.

_"I remember you asked why I didn't find me a mate. I think it's time I tell you something about myself. _

_I am the leader of a mercenary band and that is all I have ever wanted to be. What I was raised to be. What I was _born_ to be. When I was younger I was too busy learning my trade to get involved with women. Being a merc I realized one thing: that it is easy to die. _

_When I was nine years old, both my parents and my older sister were murdered in civil war. I was adopted the same day, but by the time I was fourteen my mentor was killed by betrayal as well. I was chosen Manda'lor, and it took up most of my time... _

_With twenty-five I began a relationship with a woman. It lasted a year. Then our ship was attacked by pirates, we entered separate escape pods and never saw each other again. _

_With thirty-two the True Mandalorians under my lead were wiped out in another set-up and I was sold into slavery myself. I eventually escaped and avenged my mentor's death then became a bounty hunter._

_I put my life on the line every time I take a job, there is no guarantee that I will live. What kind of life is that for a woman - never knowing if I will come back home alive? Never knowing what I am doing when I am out on a campaign, there is no way I could have faith in a woman."_

He ended and Tomoe took a deep breath. She could have sworn there was an expectant blink in his dark eyes but he had to know she came from a long line of warriors herself? That such behavior was unheard of with them? But at least he had started reflecting his own deeds. "You had a hard childhood and rose to leadership too early, therefore you had faith in enslavement to appease your baser human instincts? ...You think that explains it to me?" Creation's sake, he was so clumsy!

"I'm not proud of anything I have done," Fett said, no hint of emotion in his voice. "But I'm not ashamed of anything, either. I just do what I have to do."

Her hopes in his progress crumbled. He still missed some of the most essential civilized words. 'Sorry' for example. Which brought them back to the ground line of morals: tit for tat. "You kill for a living. Tell me, what did you do to the slavers?"

"I killed them," ...and he certainly wasn't ashamed of that.

"Then what do you expect me to do to get even?"

"It wasn't me who enslaved you, remember?"

Tomoe shook from the anger boiling deep within her "Hypocrite."

Jango watched her stand abruptly with a hard stare then leave. He made no move to hold her back. He had enough to think about. There would be another day. He got to his tired feet slowly and turned in for the night, just to find that she had robbed him of his sleep again.

Sleep he badly needed.

.oOo.

Tomoe had just managed to wash the blood from her tunic and pulled the blanket around her as the door buzzer went "What is it now?" she grumbled and wrapped the sheet around her chest to check the monitor embedded in the doorframe. A young clone soldier in blue fatigues stood in front of her door, his arms loaded with a large package, her knife and blaster on top of the pile. There was a folded towel wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Good evening, Mereel... please put that package down for a moment. I've to get decent." she rushed into the fresher and forced her arms and legs into her one set of wet clothing that clung to her body uncomfortably. At least the special fibers kept it from dripping once she had wrung the water out forcefully. It was still better than to parade public corridors wrapped in a towel or use companies' rooms of clones who likely inherited Fett's proclivity for gate-crashing... calling it rapid-entry-by-textbook or so.

Outside, Mereel stepped from one foot on the other. Being caught in a corridor after lights-out by an instructor could have severe consequences. Thankfully, Ms. Harada returned quickly and invited him inside without further hesitation. "Prudii..." - "Shhh... you need to take care of yourself..." Instead of reaching for her weapons, she extended her arms alongside his and took the weight from his sore back. "Heavy," she noted.

He sighed under his breath and tried again. "Sergeant Bralor and the other Cuy'val Dar gathered some clothing and things you might find useful... Prudii says he's sorry. He found you a pair of boots that we hope will fit. I cleaned them most carefully."

Mereel decided not to mention that Prudii had rappelled down into a garbage compactor that smelled far worse than Sergeant Kal's exercising nerf-innards. Before he had pulled the semiconscious back up with Ordo's help, his brother had teetered around down there for a while to reunite an undamaged pair from the remains of one or more RCs who had been less than successful with live ordnance in their first HUD-exercise. While the RCs would not miss those boots wherever they had gone, Prudii was still green in the face when he left their quarter. No, he would spare Ms. Harada from that experience tactfully.

"Thank you, Mereel... I'll express my gratitude to Sergeant Bralor and Sergeant Skirata first thing in the morning." She rested the pile on the small table.

"I am sorry for causing you trouble... I'm ready to complete the therapy now, ma'am. Please put my neck right." It wasn't just Skirata's order that drove him back, but the pain as well. And the interesting scene Ordo had described after monitoring the med-bay for them once they banged out. Creatively acquired information made most of the difference between the ordinary ARC and the Nulls. He looked around the small room for a stool, spotting a blanket on the floor, half hidden by the table. She had been sleeping already... but not in the bed? He wondered, but didn't dare to invade her privacy further, let alone anger her. His life would rest in her hands in a moment. He was afraid, but he was in pain as well and he certainly wouldn't chicken out twice.

"Thank you for your trust Mereel... and it wasn't you causing me trouble." Preparing her next move, Tomoe looked around as well and passed the chair. The back-rest would just get in the way and she wasn't used much in the way of furniture anyway. "Please take off your boots," she advised. Mereel blushed and scrambled backwards to leave his probably dirty boots at the door. "It's okay, I just want you to sit on your heels more comfortable," she sat on her heels gracefully. "Like this."

Mereel followed her example and watched her slide around him on a knee wearily. He had never seen somebody move as fluently on the ground. He suddenly felt as clumsy as if his arms and legs had suddenly grown to twice their length while she helped him to unwrap the towel.

"Good idea to take weight off your neck." Tomoe commended him and did her diagnose again. She was aware of her difficulties to tell the clones apart and wouldn't be duped. But it was Mereel's problem alright, the steel-tightness of the muscles adding to what she had felt earlier that evening. Wearing helmet, additional stress and the deferment had not made her job any easier.

"You have already seen what I am going to do." She rested her palms on his shoulders, massaging lightly while she spoke. The area she had worked on before dinner was less tense. "I assure you that there is no danger to snap your neck. My grip may be tight, but I hold you in a way that restricts the angle of the movement and keeps you safe. The manipulation is short and quick and needs far less power than it would take to damage the bone. All we want is the return to normal agility. And of course I don't use any more power than I can control... all I need is you to relax."

"I'm ready." Mereel announced, staring at the wall in full concentration.

"Here we go for C-5 right. Both hands over to your left." She rose on one knee for leverage and aligned her body with his left side, his shoulder resting in her solar plexus. She took his head in her hands gently "Don't forget to breath. In... out... easy... (she had a hard time not to stiffen herself)... in... out... let your head sink into my arm... in... out..." she administered a short pull and the audible pop cracked through Mereel's bones. She let go immediately, slid behind him and supported his head with her fingertips on the base of his skull, shaking lightly. "How does it feel?"

"Whoa, that's a lot better."

Tomoe grinned and bend over to tell him "thought so," she slid back. "Now to the highest two buggers on the left. Your muscles are very tense, so I have to prepare the manipulation with pressure points. It will hurt a little, but there's a good chance we can avoid a detour to the med-bay... I've already learned how much you boys enjoy sharps..."

"Okay. I want you extend your arm, shoulder-high... and try hold it up against my hand pressing it down. Give me your best... try again." She had her fingertips on Mereel's neck who was surprised with what ease his best was flattened by the thin _aruetyc_ woman. Her hand was small and her touch gentle, but he would have sworn she pressed more of a punch than Old Psycho! He probably wasn't as fit to fight anymore as he had assumed earlier.

"Well done. Let's try again. Hands over to your right." She took him into that nasty hold again, he breathed and willed his mind to go elsewhere while she repeated the manipulation on the other side. His neck cracked, calling him back and then the largest part of his pain was gone.

"Move a little, loosen up... Check for any other places that feel funny..."

Mereel rolled his shoulders, then his neck and tilted his head from side to side, checking his spine. "No, ma'am. I'm alright." ...he wasn't too anxious to tell what else felt funny.

She moved in front of him and winked "Want to try that arm-pressing-game again?" – "Ma'am?" – "C'mon, boy, extend your arm." This time it took both her hands and half her weight to press it down. "Such a little detail, but it makes all the difference. Do your gym, try to avoid sitting around and don't hesitate to come back if you experience further problems."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Please call me Tomoe. I'm not an officer. And if Sergeant Skirata agrees to me training you - then it is sensei." She slid her fingertips over the ground to form a V in front of her and bowed gracefully to touch her hands with her forehead.

"I'd like that, Tomoe." N-7 tried to mirror her movement. He felt clumsy again as he stood and retrieved his boots. Nobody had ever tried to help him into his boots, but this woman did before saying good night. Everything about her was curious indeed. Not unfriendly... but... strange... maybe Kal had been right to warn them...

Mereel returned to the Nulls' waiting in their quarter as the hero of the day, having won the game, overcome Old Psycho as well as a Bone Cruncher - a female one on top of that - and lived to tell the tale...

"_Kandosii_!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Day 11

Tomoe slept well under a second blanket she had found in the package. It was heaven to own a change of clothing for the morning gym, not to mention real underwear. Rav, Isabet or another lady had been generous. The shirt looked more like Kal's size and choice of color... light grey. It stretched in slightly different places now.

The boots fit basically but where clearly made for a different shape of foot. They were heavy, felt and smelled a little strange, but better than nothing. Going barefoot between so many armored boots was asking for trouble. She tried a couple of frog jumps, low and higher kicks to find her balance then ran for the morning gym.

Afterwards, Tomoe was back to socks because of the bruises on her ankles, but the rest of the day was spent in relative quiet, self study and some experimenting with the circuits Isabet had uprooted in her flat. The whole idea of energy transformation was fascinating to her.

The possibilities were infinite...

.oOo.

"Let's go to the sergeants training room for the evening." Isabet invited her after dinner "Do you already know what you are going to tell Boba tonight?"

Tomoe smiled "Yes, the hundred nights of the Princess Small-Beauty and the Captain of Deepgrass."

"Isn't he a little too young for that?"

"Oh, the story is by no means improper... and it might be educational for his dad as well."

"I see..." Isabet chuckled "...the old man is still standing on your heels?"

"Whenever he gets a chance... Sometimes I am afraid of him for the raging temper he has, and he seems like a whole different person. But there are other times when he's so gentle, caring and concerned about Boba... or me. It's funny, but he really believes in what he's doing."

"Duh." - "Not so dead yet, is he?" Priest inquired as he ambled over from a nearby table with a guy in grey and green armor behind him... Ward!

"It is dead... so much that something smelly bubbles up from time to time." Tomoe arched a brow.

"You need to be more careful where you put your toothpicks," Dred scolded lightly, looking at the patch on her throat. Ward noted the knife had returned under her belt and said nothing... but it still felt like a set-up to Tomoe.

"Shut up Dred. You can sit down and listen if you want, but I want to hear that story." Isabet intercepted.

"Sorry, no spoilers." Tomoe tried to hush Isabet.

"Oh, c'mon, I'm not going to tell Boba..." Isabet was hit by one of Dred's wide, artless smiles as the big man plopped down beside her, red and yellow plates clanking lightly as Ward found a seat as well and placed his helmet on the table in front of him carefully. Definitely not Fett's old man, she noticed with a look into his unlined, oval face and black hair.

"Okay, then I have another story just for you..." Tomoe admitted

"_Once upon a time, a young nobleman and student from Three-Meadows wandered the wilderness surrounding a provincial shrine, mad with grief after the loss of his fiancée._

_Deep in the woods he encountered a young officer who was hunting foxes in order to obtain their livers for use as medicine. The scholar knew from the start that he had no more chances to win a fight than the officer had to cure a disease with fox-livers, but the grief-stricken man devoted himself to make the brute see his mistake and even battle him to save the caught fox from a gruesome death. Sustaining several wounds in the process, the young nobleman barely managed to set the white fox free from the cage before he passed out from blood-loss... _

"Louder!" came from the back of the crowed that had gathered at the rare prospect of life-entertainment. Tomoe perched on the edge of the seat and reached under the hilt of her knife with her left hand safely turned to push out her folding fan from her belt, presenting it briefly to the anxious, armed audience before opening it with her right. It enhanced the language of her hands while she continued a little louder.

"_When he came back to his senses, a beautiful woman who introduced herself as Arrowroot-Leaf, the younger sister of his departed fiancée, had come out of nowhere and helped him to return to his home. In reality, this woman was nobody else but the Fox that he had saved and who had adopted human form in order to tend to his wounds. He fell in love with her and they married to live quietly in the countryside. They had a son, and all too soon, Arrowroot-Leaf had to realize that her offspring had inherited part of her supernatural nature, because the boy was strong-willed and mischievous and loved to kill and eat insects and small animals._

_Her double-cross as 'Arrowroot-Leaf' worked for a couple of years, until one evening, while she was viewing the autumn blossoms, the _real_ younger sister of the late fiancée and her parents came for a visit and were surprised to find another 'daughter' in the house of their impended son-in-law._

_Fleeing the veranda, her son caught sight of the bushy white tip of her fox-tail bouncing under the flapping hem of her robes, utterly revealing her true nature. Now the Fox had no choice but to depart and return to her life in the wild, but she managed to leave a farewell message behind:_

_"If you love me, darling, come and see me._

_You will find me yonder in the great wood_

_Of the south-west province where the leaves_

_Of arrowroots always rustle in pensive mood."_

_As she wrote the poem on the paper screens, her hands gradually changed back to animal paws and the final lines of the poem had to be written with the brush held in her mouth. _

_The scholar, his son and the family rummaged in the forest to try and persuade the Fox to return, but she hid until they left the little boy to sleep in the shadows of a large tree while they continued their search in the vicinity. To her son, she eventually appeared as a fox and revealed him, that as a shrine-spirit, she was a messenger of the gods. _

_The animal spirit could not have any more close contact with human beings because her fox-powers had been weakened by her love for them, and so she asked her boy to regard the elderly couple as his true family and the younger sister as his mother, hoping the woman she had impersonated would not hate her so much._

"_Stop misbehaving and study hard." The fox-spirit advised him, "Become praised as being a worthy son to someone as excellent as your father. Do not be laughed at as a useless boy who is obviously the son of a fox. You have killed insects mercilessly and I grieved, knowing that this was because you had inherited my fox nature. When you grow up, do not take the life of even a single small bird or tiny insect without reason. Even though we must part, your mother will always look after you and protect you."_

_Hearing the beloved voice close, the father jumped to hold her back, but the white fox immediately dropped the child she was embracing and vanished. Nevertheless, the boy listened to her counsel and grew from a clumsy kid into a master of science from unmatched pureness and clarity."_

Tomoe ended the narration with a sound snap of her folding fan and most of the crowed went back to what they were doing before.

"What was his name?" Llats asked, still all caught up.

"The boy's adult name was Abe no Seimei. The story is just one among many that wrap around his historical figure."

"How the guy managed to overlook a bushy tail all those years is beyond me." Dred shook his head.

"Well, our poor fox-spirit was under a lot of stress when that detail slipped her control."

"Whoa... Dred, your failsafe priorities managed to spot the _only_ oddity in the whole tale instinctively!" Llats chuckled, then returned his attention to the _aruetyc_ storyteller "Why don't you use the real names in your stories?"

"The names in the tales often have a meaning that I try to transport through translation. If I include full clan and family name, titles and honorary prefixes, most of them would be so long that it would be cumbersome to use. It would inevitably break flow of any story. That's why it's common sense to use the function or a nickname in an anecdote, since everybody with some background knows who it refers to anyway... or they can decide themselves if they want to remember or not."

"How so...? What's there to decide?"

"Once you keep unbroken family records over some 50 generations, the network of distant relationships becomes quite unmanageable. Even with a small audience it's difficult to tell who's related to a character around a dozen of corners. On the other hand, direct insults of one's heritage cannot be taken lightly. For example, not everybody would accept a questionable fox-heritage rubbed into his face in front of an audience by the means of his full clan- and family-name in every second sentence, even if the tale is set 30 generations ago. Therefore, we ship around such cliffs for the sake of entertainment and in return everybody can take it easy."

"I knew there was a reason why _Mando'ade_ don't care about bloodlines..."

"Care to detail how a historian's work looks under such conditions?"

"Campaigns of all the great Mandalorian leaders of the past are memorized and analyzed."

"So it's all about war?"

"Mostly. Mandalore are not renowned for writing poetry."

"I understand. I wonder how do you organize your ranks... share information... manage your economy?"

"Oh, there are no ranks. We basically organize ourselves, the Mandalor's purpose is just to make sensible suggestions we want to follow. And there are the _Resol'Nare_, six actions that make you a _Mando'ad_: wear armour, speak _Mando'a_, defend yourself and the family, raise the children as _Mando'ade_, help the clan succeed and sustain itself, and when called to arms by the _Mand'alor_, rally to his cause. Everything else is quite flexible."

"Who does all the work besides the fighting? Is there a long tradition of slavery?"

"Huh? No... I mean, we do the work ourselves. Farming, regular factory work, engineering, transport, health care, and of course we tackle security and police jobs, mercenary work and bounty hunting contracts. Especially in winter when there is little to do on the land, many _Mando'ade_ find themselves a contract or two for the extras they can't produce themselves."

Tomoe nodded slowly.

"I wished I could tell you there were no examples for slavery in our history, but that would not be the truth.

_Four thousand years ago, during the Krath Holy Crusade, the _Mando'ade_ expanded their territory along the Outer Rim led by Te Kandosii Mand'alor, conquering many worlds, such as Basilisk. The planet was left poisoned and useless by its own inhabitants, but a number of Basiliskans were found to be easily trained. _

_Because of their tough hides and claws they were used as intelligent weapons for aerial and ground fighting during later wars including the New Sith Wars. In slavery, the _bes'uliik_ war mounts degenerated and became nothing more than savage beasts, the 'Lagartoz War Dragons' that were subsequently replaced by intelligent _bes'uliik_ droids modeled after their shapes._

_About thirty years later in the beginning of the Mandalorian War, his successor, Te Ani'la Mand'alor regrouped our forces into Neo-Crusaders and slowly began to conquer fringe worlds that had been left defenseless in the wake of the Great Sith War. The Neo-Crusaders, still in alliance with the Sith, were able to carve out a clan territory greater than that ruled by the Hutts in the span of little more than a decade before invading the Republic itself. _

_For that, Mand'alor reordered his conquered provinces to better serve as warehouses and foundries for his growing armadas. The Mando clans grew more powerful than ever before, as they accumulated a huge slave labor-force and conscripted subject peoples into their ranks. Fifteen years later the Mando fleets were all but destroyed at Malachor V by an experimental Republic-engineered weapon and the Jedi Revan killed Te Ani'la Mand'alor in close combat. He took the _kyr'bes_, destroyed the stockpiles of weaponry and battle droids and exiled the clans into the Outer Rim._

...That was nearly 4000 years ago. Maybe you are of Mandalorian descendant yourself?" Llats mused.

Tomoe choked briefly, but she felt that he was just being honest. "I doubt it. My ancestors believed in change by creation, not in change by destruction." She swallowed her anger. After all, she could hardly expect him to see the insult in the suggestion that they were ...one of a kind.

"_Without leadership and direction, many surviving _Mando'ade_ went on to find work as bounty hunters or mercenaries. The others could not settle for a new leader. As Revan left for the Unknown Regions, a veteran of the Mandalorian Wars employed by him, Canderous Ordo, was left with instructions to unite the clans and prepare for a new war, afterwards the _Jetii_ told him the whereabouts of the _kyr'bes_. Canderous then decided to join the _Jetiise_ against the _Darjetiise_, so that the galaxy would not fall under Sith-influence for good which would pose a threat to his efforts to reunite our scattered clans._

_The changes made by Canderous Ordo have effect to the day. We have transformed into a less clan-based, more mercenary-oriented culture. We are good at what we do, we use cutting-edge technology and we are expensive. That's why you book _Mando'ade_ to massacre serious adversaries and not for petty slave raids. Carting around live-enemies is really awkward, you know? Nomads can't burden themselves like that. We have no bulk labor that can't be done more sensible with machines; there are weapons all around... I think my own wife would have killed me if I had ever _considered_ to bring a _veriduur_ home."_

Isabet chuckled. "I certainly would have." Dred gave her a crocked 'oh-really' grin and was promptly rewarded with another elbow in his plates. He seemed to enjoy it, so he rambled on "Gotta remember to include my band of Twilek dancing girls in my next marriage vow then... maybe it's acceptable when I'm oh so considerate and co-ordinate their skin-color with the paint-job of _beskar'gam be cyar'ika_...hmm... are there yellow Twileks, Is'ika?" he asked, his round face a study in innocence.

"Not enough in this galaxy to fill your big, empty bucket, _di'kut_." Isabet briefly considered to co-ordinate his face with _his_ armor-color by the means of a punch or two, but that wide smile did her in. - "Pity... but I like the more common blue kind, as well. Would you consider a re-paint?" – "Dream on!"

Tomoe decided to ignore the overgrown kids and get right to the point. "Do you have an idea why Fett did... what he did?"

Llats stiffened slightly. He had just made it back on Fett's good side. You never knew who was listening. "No, I don't. Maybe a personal trauma, maybe a family trait. It was a Fett, Cassus, who rounded up the Cathar races in the Mandalorian War as the second in command under the last Taung _Mand'alor" _The historian shrugged "Be sensible. You are a free person now, with the same restrictions that go for everybody else."

"Thank you for being honest..."

"As I see it in our history, enslavement led to stagnation, while _adoption_ meant the development of our people. It always was and still is the common way for orphaned children - and even adults - that catch our eye to be brought into our culture by adoption. That's why we are unconcerned about parentage: no difference is made between a biological child and an adopted one. It doesn't matter what who your father was, it matters what kind of father you are."

"I understand." She nodded, but in fact, Tomoe felt lost, maybe more so than before. 'I'm no child... haven't been _adopted_... don't know how to feel about it all... being assimilated and all... need more time' But she had to honor the fact that Llats explained things to her patiently. She forced a smile "There is no rule against poetry, is there?"

"Nay, we are pragmatic about such details." Llats chuckled "Be flexible and keep up the good work."

"Thanks." This time, her smile was the real thing "If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work." She bowed slightly "Have a nice evening."

.oOo.

"There she goes." Isabet cackled "Won't be a long wait for first poetry writing _Mand'alor_ in history now, betcha!"

"Mercy for all those who have to listen to such attempts!" Llats commented dryly.

"If it doesn't kill on the spot, the recording could be terrific benefit in interrogations." Other possibilities sparked Dred's interest. "Care to detail... You bet what exactly, Issy?"

Chapter 6.1 – Small Beauty

"Tonight, I've decided to leave the gods alone and jump into the times of more human beings, thousands of years later, but thousand years in the past from now...

_In an age of peace and cultivation, the most famous of beauties was Ono no Komachi – "Small Beauty of Ono", a lady-in-waiting in the imperial court. By no means small in her beauty - but so beautiful, proud, and passionate was she, that she has never been forgotten. Her name has come down through the ages as one of the six best poets ever and a world's all-time femme fatale, recounted in plays and legend. _

_With her raven tresses that cascaded to the floor, a face like a blossom, and eyebrows painted into perfect crescent moons, she drove the noblemen of her days mad with desire. She would glide through the cedar-scented halls in her multilayered gauze and damask robes, oblivious to the thousands of love letters which lay discarded about her chambers. At night she slept in a room in the soft light of candles where golden flowers decorated the walls and strings of crystal beads hung in the doorway. When she passed the cup at banquets, people said it was as if the moon lay on her trailing sleeve. _

_But she was not just a pretty face. She was brilliant, accomplished, powerful, and tough-minded, a woman of burning passions which she wrote about in her poems read and loved to this day. When the country was suffering from a severe and prolonged drought, the power of her magic voice alone broke the spell when Ono no Komachi prayed for rain. On the other hand, she was convinced of the fickleness of men's love._

"Could she pray for sunshine as well?" Boba inquired curiously

"That would make a real difference on Kamino, isn't it? Pity we can't ask her to give it a try. She's been dead for a millennium."

"You could give it a try yourself?" Boba smiled hopefully

"I doubt that I could change a thing... and that it would be good for the natural balance of Kamino if it did." Tomoe shook her head 'no' and continued...

"_Ono no Komachi would only give herself to a man who could prove himself worthy of her. For the most lovelorn of all, a captain of the imperial guard, she devised the sternest of ordeals. He was to come to her house for a hundred nights and sleep outside on a bench used to support the shafts of her chariot before she would even consider his suit. "We could be as two birds flying together in the sky and as two branches intertwined on Earth..." she promised him._

_So, night after night, the proud Captain of Deepgrass hitched up his stiff silk trousers and donned his tall lacquered hat or put on a wide-brimmed wicker hat and straw rain cape and ventured out into the elements. Evading the night watchmen and the barrier guards he walked through wind, rain, and snow, made a notch on the shaft bench, and then waited through the night there, shivering. _

_One day, two days, ten, twenty... Every night she looked out of her window, but he never budged. He even missed the Harvest Vigil Festival that no courtier would normally dream of missing. Instead of celebrating, the birds shat on him and the insects ate him alive! After ninety nights he was gaunt and pale and tears streamed from his eyes but he couldn't hold them back. He didn't even have the strength to sleep any more._

_Ninety-nine days had passed and the joyful day, when he was to receive the reward for all his efforts, was dawning when he suddenly died, of heartbreak, perhaps, or exposure to a snowstorm in the last night._

_For such hard-heartedness, Komachi suffered the cruelest punishment of all—the loss of her beauty. Instead of dying young, she lived to be a hundred! After the death of Captain of Deepgrass she was spurned and driven from court and ended up a tattered, crazed beggar woman. In folk legend and plays she is portrayed as an ancient withered crone, hideously ugly, haunted by the unhappy spirits of the men who died for love of her. Another part of the legend has it that, as an immortal temptress, she has the power to recapture the hypnotic beauty of her youth and exercise it over a young man."_

"Eep." Boba shrunk back into his cushion wide-eyed "How comes that you remember the incident so long after? It was just one crazy guy after all."

"The poetry of Ono no Komachi still remains today, as the words of her heart are immortal:

_The long rains falling_

_Provoked you to consider_

_Your mortality-_

_Listening to the same rain_

_Provokes me to think of mine_

"You danced her role quite frequently, isn't it?" Jango grumbled, his burning dark eyes locked on her profile.

"No way!" Tomoe laughed "Until I started living among giants, I was considered too tall to make a very graceful dancer. I was asked to stand in for the Captain from Deepgrass only." She stood to strike a pose; hitch up non-existent skirt-pants then took a couple of exaggerated steps through the kid's bedroom. Boba cracked up. She stopped at the door, turned around and winked. "I wonder... what would have happen if – in the ninety-ninth night for example – the Captain had simply picked up his chair and left?!"

"Hmm..." Boba gave it a shot. "He would have lived?" he proposed.

"Possibly." Tomoe smiled. "But there's more about it. Think about it and tell me tomorrow." She encouraged, bowed gracefully and vanished into the night.

"You don't need to believe all those things she's telling you." Jango sighed and tucked his son in. "In my experience, the dead don't return to haunt you. You know I've seen a lot of those. Sleep now. I have to prepare another exercise."

Chapter 6.2 - Too close

Indeed, it was the living who did not stop haunting him. Now those things had calmed down a bit and nearly returned to normal, he found his desires had grown and his hungry lust screamed for more of what he had tasted. Jango replaced his helmet and wandered out into the silent corridors of the stilt city.

He'd half thought that once all the formalities had been seen to, the pressure that kept her from seeing him would be lifted automatically for the good of their child. After all she didn't have to worry about getting back from the moment Kal took her vow, nor about employment, housing or food on her table because of him. But no such luck.

Therefore he had increased the pressure, played with her anger of being kidnapped, the fear of being held by her captor, the confusion and uncertainty. But she had just laughed in his face, locking him out even when she was standing threadbare right in front of his nose. Her iron will alone was like a steel door with a window small enough to see through so he could yearn for what was held there, but never possess it.

Jango's mind travelled back in time...

'Why did it hurt so much? Why did my mom not run with my sister when dad bought her that chance so dearly? Mom could have survived just like me, and Arla would have survived... It doesn't matter...' He cut off that thought harshly. Someday, Tomoe would die like all the others... and he would be alone again... would he mind if she took them with her?

He noticed his feet had moved up to her door on their own and checked location of the monitoring device automatically. Yes, she was home, body temperature 310K, no pulse available since that stupid scene with Llats. He switched to infrared, which was quite blurry through the walls, even in the most sensitive setting. Two heat sources, one moving? He switched to penetrating radar within a blink. Very little metal in there, a pair of armored boots?! Metal parts of the furniture popped up at his first swipe and he modified the settings for another swipe. A warm lump in bed, one standing.

_Fierfek_. He could not believe that any of his own kind would try defy him like this. Had she dared to choose somebody else? That would explain a lot to him. Everything in fact. NO! He would not have his child taken away from him. He'd rather mature it in a glass vat like the first and then raise it himself. He switched back to night visual and took a probe from a belt pouch.

There was no expression at all on his face, just his cold icy stare nearly burning a hole into the solid door to her room. Currently he thought of Tomoe as a mere possession and nothing more. He would take her back, and punish the one who stole her away, so they would learn quickly never to attempt such a feat again.

.oOo.

Tomoe had taken some time to sort through all the new stuff, washed her clothing and got ready to curl up in the makeshift-bed under the table covered by the warm air-stream of the vent that heated her quarters, when her finely attuned senses suddenly screamed in alarm.

He had not made a sound, nor did he give any other warning of his presence. All the same, the short hairs prickled on the back of her neck, and Tomoe _knew_. She could feel his murderous presence as clearly as if he'd touched her. Fett was out there. And nobody would be with her quicker than him.

The locked door of her quarter hissed open without her affirmation, a couple of quick steps and his armored weight bumped into the short corridor wall lightly, as he checked the bathroom before rounding the corner to go for the bed, firearm first.

Coming out from just the other side, Tomoe rammed her knife into the armpit presented to her by the raised blaster with both of her hands. Once the blade was in to the hilt she opened her grasp to catch the blaster-arm and punched the palm of her right up under the lower edge of the helmet. The combined shove of her arms and hip dropped the owner flat on the ground from two feet height, the slender woman going down on top of the major weight, still hanging on Jango's weapon hand like a ferocious little _gdan._ A poison-dart smacked into the ceiling before she could shift her full weight around on his chest and plant her bare foot on the free elbow. "No, no, NO!" she yelled, working on his grasp on the Westar-blaster.

"Red alert..." his voice sputtered within the helmet. "Keep Boba safe."

A shiver of failing muscles ran through the arm, then let go of the blaster and it was pushed into the shadows, spinning. A jerk of the other arm made her foot loose the lock, a blade tore through fabric and seared over her calf. Her hands found the smooth handle of her knife protruding from his ribcage. Then she lost it again because of the slippery moisture covering it and she had to save her leg with another quick twist of her body. She planted her knee on his shoulder, pressing into the joint of the armor plates. On the second try, she managed to unlock her knife from the mesh of his ribs.

He didn't care about the stream of blood gushing from the wound, jerking on the helmet to spit out some more of his life fluid in return for a breath. "Stop... Cin'ciri..."

Why couldn't he just do her a single final favor and DIE?! She brought the knife's handle down on his temple to shut him up. No need to lock the blade in his ugly thick bones again. Withdrawing to keep her clothing clean, she sliced and cracked through the anklet, switched the light on and activated the cleaning system, then lobbed the monitoring device up into the opening ceiling duct.

A strand of blood that trickled from her right calf came to her attention. She wrapped the pant leg tightly over the gash and forced her feet into her boots to prevent herself from leaving red footprints. She wiped her hands on his body glove, retrieved the set of his probes, slid the Westar-blaster under the tunic into the back of her waistband and snatched the helmet from where it rolled around next to Fett's limp body. No, he would not need it anymore; the puddle of blood he rested in spoke its own language.

Tomoe dashed out on the corridor and made a beeline to Fett's quarter then let herself inside with his probe. "Boba?" she found the boy huddled into the doorframe of his bedroom, blinking at the bright light. "We've got an alert and Jango's gone. I'm taking you to Kal."

"Where is dad?"

"I don't know." She filled the boy's hands with his father's helmet "Hold on to this for him," wrapped a blanket around him and scooped him up on her hip, suppressing a wince at the additional weight on her wounded calf.

An armored fist banged at the quarter's door.

"Yes, who's there?" She yelled, already on the way. An unknown Mando'ad in golden armor towered in the doorframe with his blaster drawn, but held to the shoulder in a less threatening position. She opened and fired her question right away: "Where's Jango Fett?"

"Same question."

"I don't know. He's left for a meeting. I've order to take Boba to safety with Skirata in case of alarum."

"You alright, Boba? Where's your father?" the artificial voice behind the helmet pressed on.

"Yes." Boba nodded bravely "I don't know." He struggled in Tomoe's grasp "Gotta find dad!"

"Stop giving me trouble, you two," Without further ado, Tomoe pressed past the warrior, "I've got a job to do. Find Fett." She headed for Skirata's quarter briskly.

Shifting Boba on her hip into a more balanced position, she pressed the buzzer of Kal's door and was rewarded by his verpine shatter gun being shoved into her face. How expectable. "Fett cancelled our deal. We are going home now." A slight shift revealed the helmet pressed in between her body and the boy in her arms. "Take your gun out of my face. If I can't protect the three of us, we ALL die." The lacquered sheath of her knife clattered to the ground.

Kal was aware where the tip of her blade in Boba's back was pointing. He also knew that "three" didn't include him. In this woman's small hands lay the legacy of two departed Manda'lore. If he shot her, he would kill Jango's youngest within her body, while nothing would stop her from killing Boba as she fell. 'Crazy females' he muttered..."Why me?"

"Because you are the most reasonable and the least overgrown. Leave your gun and knife here, please. You may bring a deactivated comlink. Do you need painkillers for your ankle?" He shook his head and lowered the verpine to the ground slowly.

Tomoe took a cautious step backwards. She knew well enough that his lack of agility was mostly an act and how quick he was with that knife that he placed alongside the gun. "If you would pick up that sheath for me... thank you... now lead the way to the Slave I's landing pad, please."

"We won't make it inside anyway. Knock it off and I'll see what I can do for you."

"I've got the keys and Boba has the right DNA as well as the codes."

"You've planned that all the way." Skirata accused her.

The boy stared at her blankly "Tomoe... He's dead, isn't he? Dad..."

"Always have a plan B... and not now, Boba, I have to keep you safe." When they stepped out on the landing pad, the perimeter control kicked in immediately. The ship's laser guns hummed to live and took aim at the intruders. "Wait a moment, Kal." She held out her palm, her black eyes burning into Boba's "In this very moment I trust your father... Boba, you and I are going to on board of this ship or into the next world. Is there anything Kal and I should be aware off?"

"I don't know... Slave I is programmed not to shoot at me. The keypad is right at the hatch, under the beak... you have to enter the code within fifteen seconds, otherwise the perimeter is wiped by a curtain of cross fire."

"You have the code ready?"

"Yes."

'C'mon, start walking already.' Kal watched their discussion patiently 'In a few, you will be stuck in that tin can without a pilot and nobody else to convince of your madness. That will give us plenty of time to regroup and pick you off in an inattentive moment.'

Tomoe reached into the small of her back and aimed Jango's Westar-blaster. It felt different than her hold-out-blaster or the DC-15 sidearm she had practiced with... a lot better. "I will welcome you on board as soon as it is save, Kal." She passed slowly through the perimeter which the linked cannons of the Slave I unremittingly guarded. "The code, Boba, and nobody gets hurt." The boy entered the code with shaking hands, waiting for Kal to speed-limp inside under Tomoe's scrutiny and close the hatch from the inside.

Tomoe sighed. This time, the ship's sound-scenery made her feel very different than the day she arrived. While it held as much of Jango's personality as the helmet clutched between her chest and Boba's small form, it felt... save. 'Strange.' She shook her head. "Kal, get up that ladder and strap in. You fly us home, then you can take the Slave I wherever your conscience tells you to go."

Watching Kal climbing upwards painfully and hoisting himself into the pilot's seat with a groan, she took the helmet from Boba's numb hands and hooked it to the back of her belt. It probably held information they needed. She helped the boy up the ladder and followed suit.

"You think you can get away with this?" Skirata asked coldly while going through the pre-flight checks with Boba's codes and the probes Tomoe had liberated. It didn't give them full weapons- and data-base-access, but enough flight- and navigation-controls to get them off the ground, in and out of hyperspace. "Long way to go." He mused.

"We've got everything on board to convince the surveillance that we are Fett going for a ride. I'm sure you will play nice since you are in the pot with us."

Tomoe pulled the seatbelt close and threw her arms around Boba when Skirata pulled the Slave I off the landing pad in a steep arch. "It's not me who drowns one's bad conscience in _tihaar_ every night!" she screamed over the roar of the sublight engines. "This is YOUR opportunity to break free as well as ours!"

Chapter 6.3 - Downtime

Pulling back the hyperspace-lever, Kal's ice-blue eyes glared at Tomoe, and then he looked at the small one. He could not put things right for him, but he had to give him clarity at least and help him to face the facts. They wouldn't have made it so far if things had been different. "Your father is dead, Boba." He said, trying to sound gentle.

"You lie." Boba protested. "You are just having those mood swings again, Tomoe?" This was ridiculous. His dad was an invincible warrior. Immortal! And Tomoe was his friend. She had promised to stay with him!

"Kal tells the truth. Your father died while attacking me." Tomoe stated calmly. "It was me or him."

"NO!" He screamed, and clamped his hands over his ears, deciding that whatever mood swings were, they were probably contagious. He needed to stay sane. He would just close his eyes, scream loudly to wake himself in his bed and dad would rush in to see what was wrong with him.

"It's true." Tomoe ignored the screaming, snapped the seatbelt open and went to the cockpit locker for a med-pack, then pushed her right boot off with a wet sound. She unwrapped the blood-soaked pant leg carefully. "That was Jango's left gauntlet blade."

"What did you do?" Kal turned around in the pilot seat and quirked a grey brow.

"Let's just say I didn't sleep where he expected me to, or I would be dead."

"You want to tell me you were hanging from the ceiling like a bat?"

"Constant armor-wearing makes people inflexible." Tomoe sighed as the pain lessened, finished the application of a bacta patch then offered, "Want a backrub?"

"You are incredible!" Skirata huffed under his breath.

"I'm just considerate of what I put you through, Kal. I noticed at least one blockade in your lumbar spine because of your constant limping... but of course I understand that you don't trust me."

"Don't waste your time on an old barve like me, but consider what Boba needs."

"True." Tomoe inhaled deeply before she continued "Boba, have you thought already about where you want to stay?" Boba glared at her. Yes, he would listen. "I can't change the past, but you can shape your future. Your dad won't come back. In three years, Kal will go to whatever WAR his 'adult' sons are sent to. But you, Boba, will still be a child." She locked her eyes on his "I feel no remorse for what I did, but if you choose to go with Kal, I'll accept it. I'll be waiting for you to come for me when you are grown-up."

"There is a second option." She let the tension linger for a moment then continued. "I cannot train you like your father would have, but I will teach you all about the skills I command. We won't be rich, but I can make a living for the three of us. I promise my children will always come first. None of them will become republic cannon-fodder." She paused. "Take your time to decide what you want to do."

Tomoe settled her back against the cockpit bulkhead to rest without falling asleep. Even with the Slave I's superior speed it would be hours till they reached home. Lots of things to think over that would keep her awake. Stay on the task at hand. Don't think about him.

Meditate about that bloody face later.

.oOo.

Several hours later, she was back on the co-pilot's seat while Kal tried to talk his way past the local traffic control and requested permission to land. He finally gave it up and decided to outrun the perimeter defenses, drop down quicker than those old buckets could follow and then fly under the radar.

"Boba?" Tomoe's body felt tight and drawn against his back as she held him again. She dearly hoped her strength would not leave her despite the blood loss and exhaustion.

The boy swallowed hard. "I'll go with you, Tomoe." The galaxy had gone crazy, but somebody had to take care of the family until dad returned.

"Drop us off at that train station" Kal brought the Slave I down in a small backyard and she handed Jango's _buy'ce_ over to Skirata with a small bow "You might want to keep that to perform whatever rites the Mando custom request. Please take the Slave I with you unobtrusively."

Did she realize that she was about to declare him _Mand'alor_? 'Yes, she does,' Kal decided. She was being generous, but it was nothing to him. "Why should I let you go?" Skirata snapped.

"Because you are a sensible person while I'm just a crazy female - with a hidden det on board," Tomoe retorted and raised her comlink, "which is linked to this remote... So maybe the question should be 'why should I let _you_ go?'"

"Now that's beyond you." Skirata pushed a smirk on his best sabbacc-face.

"I'm discrete about your project and I respect your feelings as a father, Kal, but I'm a female defending her young. Demolition handbook, lesson XI - isn't it, Boba? Don't. Try. Me."

Kal could not verify if she had got her hands on sufficient supplies, when and where she hid it, but she had Fett's armory to loot and he had written that part of the curriculum himself. He liked it easy and efficient - once he had started training the Nulls, he had found out that he could be a good teacher, and... _shab _... "You are a quick learner."

"Fair enough. Safe passage, Kal." Tomoe snatched Boba, jumped off the lowering landing ramp and raced through the entrance hall of the atrium house while Kal pulled up the Slave I from the burned patch of earth that had been a peaceful garden a moment ago, trying to acquire a target. Once out on the street, Tomoe was swallowed by a crowd of busy people that pressed into the underground and several fire-fighting teams homing in on their last position... and he had a pair of interceptors on his tail that tried to force the Slave I back into the ground.

They really didn't like chance-visitors here... who torched those paper-boxes they called homes!

He would better get lost before they found out that he could not power-up a tenth of Slave I's fancy weapons to use in his defense... and he needed to call Old Psycho for a _shabla_ sitrep from home and he needed to convince stubborn Slave I to open a secure connection. Otherwise the cover of their project would be shot to _haran_.

.oOo.

P.S.:

Since the story has reached a mile stone in this chapter, I'll wait for reviews. After writing ca. 100 pages for your entertainment, I think I deserve a line or two from you. May it good or bad, I think that nobody can read as far without having own thoughts about it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – Morning in Town (Day 12)

Nobody tried to keep up the young woman in the deep red off-world clothing and heavy silver boots who carried a dark faced kid with strange curly hair on her hip that was wrapped in a grey-blue blanket. She leaned against the bulkhead of the underground train with a low sigh of exhaustion. Boba was too big to be carried around like that for long. She was aware what an uneven couple they made. But most people avoided a second look after the first glimpse, let alone seek eye-contact with those terrifying black pools in her pale face. The train was cram-full in the morning rush-hour, but something about her created an empty space around them.

Tomoe left a couple of stations later, changed trains two more times and dropped by at a fresher before she dared to go up into the business sector of the station. Aside from the ticket money, she had enough local currency to buy two simple sets of local clothing, sandals and a hat for Boba in a cheap shop. They changed right there and Tomoe bundled up everything except her knife which vanished in the overlap of her tunic. Fatigues, pyjama, boots, comlink and Jango's Westar-blaster were wrapped in the blanket and then locked up in a deposit box within the station. She took Boba's small hand in hers as he walked beside her.

Back on the street, they blended in with the city population who lived so far away from bloodshed as if it was a galaxy between them. Tomoe entered the one of the large bank holdings, made a bee-line over the cold shiny marble floor to the info-counter, ignored the sparse decorations and tasteful flower arrangements and slipped her ID-card to a clerk in a dark suit with immaculate black hair who tried to hide his surprise. "I would like access to my account and the inventory of this deposit box..." She penned down a number. "In a private booth, please." She placed her palms on Boba's shoulders and ushered the boy to stand in front of her, bending down slightly as he peeked up to her from under the hat's rim "We have to wait a moment," she whispered.

The accountant returned, led them behind a slide door and did the ratification with the peasant woman in the simple clothing, the court accent and the determined posture, then left them alone. Boba looked at her enquiringly as she poured hot water into two cups with something green floating on the bottom. It tasted a little like _shig_, but more boring. She seemed to have all the time in the world as she sipped from her cup "Three tasks before breakfast: Scrape together money for travelling and other expenses. Retrieve some items from the family deposit box. Modify my last will and testament to include you and write... two letters." Boba sat down on a stool and swung his legs. That could take a while.

Tomoe turned to the monitor, flipped through her accounts, then sold the shares she held in the Sen-Ike-Resort as far as they weren't frozen and bolstered the sum by draining her account book. Their financial possibilities were limited, but it was enough to plan their next steps. Maybe she had to turn something else into money. She moved to the inventory and picked out numbered positions from a long list. Two sets of formal clothing, weapons and some pieces of her grandma's jewelry. She would have all that delivered directly to the resort. Afterwards, she had a look over a scan of her testament and attachments.

Boba was ready to go the moment she stood and stretched, but she just walked to a side board to pick up some sheets of strange white flimsy and what looked like writing equipment. "Adoption isn't a quick and easy procedure here as it is in Mandalorian customs," she informed him "It includes a lot of paperwork, a public hearing, a judge, the heads of two families and even the leader of the clans if the interaction requests that."

The boy wrinkled his forehead. She had promised... didn't she want to go through all this for him?

"I'm going to start the process as soon as we reach our home, but it can take years to the official recognition. I want you to know that - but not to unsettle you - since it won't change anything between us. I place you as my heir in the same position as any natural child I'm going to have. This means you will become my only heir for now. Since I'm the last of my line, I can personally allow you the use of my family name from this day on. You can decide for any of your names or combine them when you reach legal age. Do you agree with that?"

"Will dad..." he cleared his throat "...will Jango Fett still be my father if I agree?"

"Yes. He will always be your father. But I will be your mother."

Dad would be back. Boba nodded. As he saw it, he wasn't loosing anything, but winning something he never had: a mother. "In this case, yes, Tomoe." Unsure what to expect and wary, he scrutinized what she was doing.

She dipped the brush into the valley of the ink stone and started writing in well defined signs and columns, then signed and wrote a second signature, dubbing it in Aurabesh: "Boba Fett Harada". She placed the brush aside and retrieved the knife from under her tunic. Something in her bristled at the brown grime still sticking everywhere in the notches, but she pressed on the hilt to unsheathe just enough of the razor-sharp blade to make a nick in a finger and signed the edict with blood. "_Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, _Boba." She spelled out the Mandalorian adoption vow to Boba slowly, trying to get it right before she repeated in basic to be safe: "I know your name as my child, Boba." She held out the sheathed knife to Boba who repeated the process then gave it back.

Tomoe brushed down another, longish letter, ripped it to shreds and placed the shreds in two different sealed envelopes, made a note on them for the recipient, put each in a second envelope and wrote two different addresses on them. Afterwards she closed down the secure links and buzzed for the accountant. "I'd like this amount in untraceable chips, add this document to my notarial acts. Please have my deposit boxes with following numbers sent to my home address at the sen-ike-resort and post these two letters for me." - "Of course, Harada-san. If you would follow me to the reception-counter, please..."

It seemed that they left the bank with no more on their hands than before. Boba felt no different than a moment ago, but he had a mother now. He was still peeking at her when they had a quick breakfast at a take-away in the station. Tomoe asked the cook to prepare them a large lunch package and purchased one of his larger water-proof supply-boxes. A moment later they were back in the underground, Boba at Tomoe's hand, each with a pack under an arm. The next leg of their journey took considerably longer. The train came out from the underground and raced through a lush green countryside as the sun rose over the ocean.

"Let us take a break." It wasn't a city but a small village where they left the station. Tomoe took them to a small shrine that bordered to a wood. Avoiding the sanctuary since she had blood on her hands, she took the water-proof box with their offworld clothing, boots, comlink and Jango's Westar-blaster. She buried it in the loose humus of the wood and memorized the place.

"You think that will put dad off our track when he comes looking for us?" Boba asked and stood with his fists on his hips as she smoothed the loose ground, her hands brown with dirt.

"No, but the spirit of this place will take care of that stuff for awhile." Tomoe smiled lightly as they ambled back to the shrine. She washed her hands and mouth carefully and they had lunch on the wide door steps before taking the train again. She half expected to hear the blubbering sublight-engine of the Slave I any moment, but everything stayed peaceful. It felt unreal.

It had been a liability to let Kal go with the Slave I. But she had seen that the ship's brain was sealed very well by its late owner's mistrust. It was most likely programmed to self-destruct before turning over sensitive data to any intruder. She had tried to keep the enmities to a minimum, but if Kal decided to shred their unspoken arrangement, she could hardly prevent it.

She had given him a sound excuse and supplied him with a defendable position. He could take the Nulls and get lost with the Slave I wherever it pleased him. Or he could share the little information he had. Or somebody could track the comlink despite Rav's modification. Or scan for the rare materials of the blaster... Anyway, they would spend some time looking in the wrong place without directly endangering the lives of the locals.

Offworlders – especially a bunch of armored Mando'ade - would not blend in here too well... and she would be warned. If it came to that, she would decide to make another move or simply sit it out. She hoped they would send a tactician on her heels and not a brute if it came to that. She had taken precautions to take the whole megalomaniac clone-army project to public attention of both Republic and Seperatists in case she died an unnatural death... or vanished.

Until then, any day that passed would add to their safety.

.oOo.

The railway climbed over a mountain pass together with the sun and the scenery changed again. Woods, orchards, fields, a town stretching along another coast line, hundreds of small islands to the horizon. They got off the train in a small suburb, took another transport to the coast, marching the short way to a small harbor to stretch their legs. "We are taking a ship from here... have you ever been on a ship that swims, Boba?" – "No." – "It's much calmer than a space ship... and slower of course."

They boarded a medium-sized flat bottom boat that connected some of the bigger islands with the opposite landmasses and had some iced tea while they were ferried across the channel. Despite the constant breeze it was getting hot. Tomoe pushed back the large round straw hat she purchased in the last harbor and dragged her hand through the water beside Boba's while she watched the wave's reflections move over his little dark face "Can you swim already?"

"Sure." The boy's concentrated expression reminded her to the day she met him, sitting over the iris-pond in the resort. "All clones can swim well. They say we've got a lot of space in those vats to move around."

"Good. Then we can cool off later if you like."

"Won't it rain later?"

Tomoe looked over the sky "Unlikely on a day like this. It's not like Kamino. We only have one rainy month a year... and even then it doesn't rain constantly."

"What would have happened?" His face stayed locked-up, but his thoughts were clearly wandering elsewhere.

"What do you mean?"

"When the Captain of Deepgrass had picked up his chair and left."

"It would be better if you got there on your own, Boba."

"I don't get it. Tell me now: what did you tell dad so he went to you?"

Tomoe swallowed and picked up the strands of her story carefully. Suddenly, it seemed an eternity away. "Well, it was just one more night and Komachi would have been his – theoretically. But considering her high rank and cruelty, there was still the possibility that she would not keep her promise. And... that would have been terrible, the Captain would have certainly died from the destruction of his every hope, even without a snowstorm."

She took a deep breath. Some things could not be described, they had to be experienced. "Remember the Captain lived for ninety-nine nights on mere hope and the thought that Komachi was at home, waiting only for him... It gave him the strength to last through an inhuman ordeal. Now if he had developed a backbone in the right moment, saluted up to that cruel beauty on the balcony, then simply picked up his chair and left, he would have enjoyed the feeling that Komachi was waiting for his return for the rest of his life..."

"Hmm." Boba had to think about that.

"One wise decision would have relieved him from the whole stupid affair and in return it would have provided him with additional strength for a lifetime."

"All that about hope...? How can you live on something that is not real... unlike food for example? Isn't it stupid to lie to yourself like that?"

Tomoe bit the inside of her cheeks before answering that question to somebody who was convinced that his father would return from the shadows. "Oh, we all can... and it's not a lie. It's an option and those are by no means exclusive. The trick is to have as many hopes as possible. So if you lose one, you can still decide to go for the other ones."

"Options... as in plan A... B... C...?"

"Yes, that's a good comparison. You don't need to figure them all from the start and you don't know for sure what will work, but just to know that they are there makes you stronger, fight harder , be more flexible... simply better."

"I don't think dad understood that... last night."

"Neither do I." Tomoe took a deep breath. Jango had chosen the way of violence instead. But there was no need to rub his father's death into Boba's face again. She needed the boy on his feet and healthy to get accustomed to the new surroundings. He had hope and that was good.

Given time, he would find out what life had to offer.

Chapter 7.1 – In the Marshes

The ferry arrived in another small port. Tomoe took Boba's hand and strolled down the quay from the travel- and tourist section, passed the big smelly fish-trawlers on the way to the piers where the smallest fishing boats were tied. She found an old man who was fixing his nets, was redirected to another one who sorted through his cages on a new boat. The first time in his life, Boba didn't understand a word. He couldn't even pick out her or his name from whatever they discussed.

"How's it going?" Tomoe swatted down on the warm wooden planks of the pier. The fisher finished piling his cages "Great. Tourists love lobster and we are having a good year. Setting baskets is far less work than going for small change in the marshland. Pity my sons aren't interested in the trade... everybody's going into town for the easy jobs nowadays." – "I've heard you've got yourself a new boat?" – "Yeah," he extended his sinewy brown arms, "Isn't it a beauty? It was getting cumbersome with the small one..." he pointed. "No engine... it's so small, it would always take two rounds instead of one." – "The new one is beautiful and will bring you good luck for sure. But your old one has its style as well. Would you think about lending the old one for a week's fee? We would like to go on a fishing trip into the marshes."

"I'd advise against that, but you two don't look like tourists." The old man arched his thick brows. – "You are right, grandpa." She bowed lightly "I've grown up at the flanks of the great white one and I know the black river from its source and cliffs to the very arm in the marshes." Tomoe smiled warmly "Thanks for your warning anyway, but there really is no danger... at home."

The fisher took a quick step backwards, pulled his hat and bowed deeply "Of course not, Milady. It's a beautiful day to go."

She leaned forwards on her knees and bow back as deeply "Please name your price, grandpa: One week including light fishing equipment, the usual necessities like med-pack, mosquito net, three blankets and a brazier." She ticked off.

The old man considered briefly, named his price, Tomoe accepted, paid and helped the fisher to move some equipment and take the cover off the small boat, fold it up and store it under the middle bench. Then she lowered the paddle in the back into the water and tied it. "Come on board." She winked Boba to jump in and the old man untied the small boat, threw the line at the boy and gave them a firm push on the way "Farewell, Milady."

Tomoe stood on the platform on the back, leaned into the paddle and pulled it back with long smooth movements. She hadn't done this for a long time, but her body got the hang of it quickly as she steered out of the harbor, a short way through the gentle surf of the bay, then back into the floating labyrinth of the river delta.

"What was that?" Boba sat on the middle bench and didn't know where to look first. It was so different to Kamino... the water was murky, the air was alive with birds and insects, deep green reed sprouted up all around them and grew soon over their heads, restricting their sight to a couple of meters left and right of the winding channel "The old guy... he seemed ...afraid?"

"Hmm..." Tomoe let the paddle go and retrieved a jar with a salve from their provisions. "The fisher merely reflected some of the respect my heritage once commanded." She dipped her fingertips in and dappled some on his forehead, cheeks and wrists. It was smelly, but not too offensive. "Rub that on your skin. It's against sunburn and mosquitoes... For centuries, mountain warriors guaranteed the independence of police Special Forces under the direct command of the overlords. He was just a little surprised to see me and we never cleared up certain rumors. A hard working man like him is unlikely to have ever experienced problems with the police." She treated her own face and hands as well.

"What sort of rumors?"

"That we read thoughts... walk over water... vanish into empty air... talk to demons... or even sprout wings and fly away. Most of it is superstitious rubbish, of course, but it had its tactical use."

"And what are we doing now?"

"We vanish." Tomoe grinned "For the time being, I'm sick of people shoving their blaster's business-end into my face ...and I promised you to teach you my skills. Let's take it slow. Relax. We fish and hunt on the way back home... and I want you meet a good old friend of the family."

"But how do you find anything in here?" Boba looked around. The place was so alive it scared him. No overview, no save platform that towered over the beasts lurking deep down in the murky waters no doubt. "This isn't a mountain, it's a _shabla_ swamp..."

"No cursing, Boba." She reminded him gently. "He will find us for sure. We just have to wait and enjoy a swim."

"How long will that take?"

"That depends of your help with this paddle. We just have to cross the stream's delta to come out at the resort. We can do it in two or three days... or take longer. Whatever we want."

Boba stood and took a hold on the bar's other side. The faster they made it back onto safe ground, the better. It was a strange construction, but Tomoe's steady, slow movement was easy enough to follow. "But we have not enough food, no water..."

"We live of the land. Time to transfer your talent with the fishing line from Kaminoan oceans to our little pond here." Boba pulled up his dinner with a line and Tomoe speared hers with a quick stab of a long thin harpoon. "The trick is to know the position of the fish is a little off under the surface."

They moved on some more hours until the marshes were bathed in the soft yellow that announced soon sunset. "Let's call it a day." Then Tomoe pulled the paddle into the boat, grabbed a long staff and turned their vessel through some curtains of reed and into a pond. On a shallow side of the pool long stemmed shots rose out of the water and unfolded into huge round leaves. White and pink flowers shone through the green roof.

Tomoe pushed the staff into the ground and tied the boat, then took off the round hat, wiped her forehead and started shedding her clothing "Let's swim, wash and dry off in the remaining sunlight." She made sure that Boba folded up his clothing properly before they slid over board. She was ready to help him, but he did well indeed. "Make sure your feet don't touch the ground unless I say it's safe. This pool is safe, but we've got some plants with thorny roots and seeds elsewhere." She watched the boy paddle around a little to be sure he was doing well then retrieved her knife, unsheathed it and washed the grime off the blade. She promised to give it the care it deserved later.

She swam over to the flowers and called out to Boba, "I'm just going to find us some veggies for dinner." With that she took the knife between her lips and vanished under the surface with a slight wave. Boba looked around. The water was murky and she didn't show up again as the seconds ticked by... He started counting... a minute later, her head broke the surface again and she gasped for air, something brown pressed against her chest "Had to dig around a while to find a good one." She wiped the wet hair out of her face with the back of her hand, leaving a brown smear on her face.

Boba chuckled and then laughed, as some of his tension broke out of him. This wasn't an impeccable cold beauty from a fairytale, this was his mom. A lean, strong, smiling huntress... a little dirty and with a warm embrace and a vice-like grip on the scary surroundings.

"It's still a little early in the year." She chopped down two large leaves and dragged them to the boat behind her, shook the water from her knife and placed it back inside the boat. She washed the root and threw it in as well. Then she cleaned up herself before climbing up into the boat and squished the water from her long raven black hair. Leaning over, she pulled her boy on board and sat him on the small rudder platform in the back. "Wipe off the water carefully. It's going to be a mild night, but I don't take any chances with you catching a cold."

"Yes, mom." No, he wouldn't cry now. He was strong. His mom was strong. His dad was strong. Dad would come and then everything would be alright.

Still naked and drying in the slight breeze that rustled in the tips of the reed, Tomoe moved to the front of the boat and got a fire going in the brazier, using her hat like a fan. Then she salted the prepared fish, husked the root to cut it up, and peeled out the seeds from their capsule. She dropped the white slices into a bowl made from a large round leaf within a piled up rope and marinated them with juice from a green fruit and a dark sauce. Once dried, she rubbed more of the smelly salve on her skin and got dressed. Their fish was barbecued a moment later. Tomoe placed it on the second leaf lying on the middle bench and covered up the brazier. They sat down for dinner.

"You really think that we can't be found here?" Boba leaned back a little and chewed. She could definitely cook but she was underestimating Jango Fett if she thought it would just take a boat trip to make her vanish from dad's scope. But then, she was convinced dad was gone.

"Let me see... nobody but Kal knows where he left us. Save the Slave I, but the ship doesn't talk to just anybody. Neither does Kal. You've seen what the orbital control does with uninvited visitors. If somebody followed us down to the surface - let's be generous and assume they covered that huge area of train- and ferry- connections somehow and made it to our last harbor - they will still be stuck without a boat. Nobody is going to rent out a boat to strangers for a trip into the marshes. You've seen how hard it is to navigate here... and there are some more extras, especially at night." Tomoe finished her fish, licked her fingertips clean and picked another root-slice from the makeshift bowl to crunch it between her molars.

"Of course, if they knew where to look, they could fly overhead once or twice. We would hear them before they could spot us and they would have the United Defense Forces on their tail in no time. They cannot land because it is _water_ and from above, we can hardly be seen, because it's all _plant growth_ at the same time. We have little more metal on board than the surrounding nature, and what we have is covered up. At least the quality lacquer of my knife's sheath has an interesting property when it comes to penetrating radar."

"It's warm. The water and reed stores the day's heat." She extended her palms "I know you can't see it without a helmet, but can you feel the different temperatures around you on your skin? Every plant and animal has its own metabolism that changes it's parameters in its own good time. That means chaos on the infrared. What can be seen of us with the bare eye makes little to no difference to dozens of other little fisher boats and transports. This place is everything but deserted, but if some trigger happy _chakaar_ starts shooting, it will do far less damage than in a crowded city centre. I can tell that soothes my mind _a lot_."

"And if they know where we are going? They could just wait for us there."

"That's what friends are there for. I'm not going to come out of my little holiday just to stare into another blaster muzzle. I've got plenty of time to take care of certain... starting difficulties. Out there, the hunters become the prey. I could wait for the military or police to pick them off... or my friends can hunt and so can I. It's my decision when and where we come out." Tomoe opened the brazier for a moment and gathered the crunchy seeds from the ashes in the last light of the day. "Dessert?"

Tomoe spent the rest of the evening on cleaning and oiling her knife until it shined like the crescent moon over their heads. Boba helped her to keep their boat meticulously clean and tidy. He kept listening to the strange sounds of this grassy jungle and the water licking the wooden nutshell. He was half-asleep when she spread out the blankets and placed the cover over their nutshell. She left just one opening which she covered with the mosquito-net.

That night, her exhausted son slept like a new born huddled into his mother's arms seeking warmth and protection against the strange nightmares that bustled around in the dark.

Chapter 7.2 – Sitrep (Night 11 / Day 12)

The Slave I's speed was sufficient to outrun the determined but outdated interceptors and Skirata managed a micro-jump out of the system. He sighed, wiped the sweat from his brows and checked for pursuers. That dogfight had been no fun. He had been down to manual on both piloting and laser cannons since the stubborn board computer still denied full co-operation. It didn't take his adversaries long to find out that their lasers didn't penetrate, and even Slave I's shielding wouldn't have taken a full-fledged crash lightly. It seemed that aggressive suicidal tendencies were a cultural trait.

"Okay you dumb bucket," Skirata grumbled and tried to log into the com-console. "Let me call home." The board computer spat the fresh transponder code back at Kal the moment he offered it on his overwrite probe and denied to serve as hub for his comlink. All he could manage was an uncoded emergency call which wasn't exactly unobtrusive. He dropped off a ping, hoping for a secure pick-up from the other side before he had to make another jump. It wouldn't take the locals long to be on his tail again.

The response call didn't come in from Kamino, but from a traffic interdiction vessel somewhere off the track. And it wasn't a Cuy'val Dar but...

Worried sick Prudii had been cycling through their usual com-frequencies in an under-resourced attempt to find a lead. Kal hoped they hadn't made contact anywhere else. The galaxy wasn't ready for teenage sextuplets piloting military transports.

"Prudii here, Kal'buir, opening secure connection…" ... once spoken to directly from the outside, Slave I generously let Kal enter the password to decode Prudii's transmission. It was audio-only. The fewer the records of conversation, the easier it was to make events vanish.

"Who else is with you?"

"Jaing, A'den and Kom'rk"

"I won't waste time asking what the _shab_ you are doing out here, lads. Sitrep?" He said sharply.

"You were a no-show and no-com in alarm, so we relocated to vital locations to look out for you, then collated. Ordo found your kit laying on the ground. Mereel found Fett in Harada's quarter being given first aid by Vau, evidence pointing towards Harada…"

"Is he alive?" Skirata interrupted. No names. He didn't know what Slave I did with his answers.

"Unconfirmed. Before we lost contact, Mereel said Fett looked _butchered_, but they were still working on him when he was sent to look for her in a cleaning duct. Jaing searched Fett's place for Boba who was missing as well as Ms. Harada. They debated shooting Slave I down, so we procured the TIV while Ordo scrambled the local cannon control system and the com a moment later before they could call-in help from planetary defense. Guess they are still working to get it back online."

"Seven hours?"

"Last outgoing message was from Ordo, about to pull their com-plug with a minor hardware damage in the computer core. If they didn't ask nicely, they'll be looking for a while to find the problem." Kal knew some instructors who would definitely not ask nicely if they caught Ordo. "Position?" - "Sending coordinates now…"

"Stay where you are and keep on trying. I'm on my way. Patch me through as soon as they come online." He tried not to imagine how badly things had gone within the last hours if Ordo had been caught. From that perspective it was a good sign Tipoca wasn't online again. His boy was an escape artist. Kal's hand hovered over the hyperdrive controls. "I'll _sort_ it out for you, lads." Skirata used 'sort' as euphemism for any form of violence, his specialist subject, especially when it came to Vau.

Slave I lurched into star-streaked space.

.oOo.

Mereel was ambushed the moment he dropped out of a cleaning opening into the corridor, the anklet he was sent to retrieve in his hand. It wasn't Vau – Old Psycho's penetrating radar was still fried – but Llats Ward taking care of the matter personally. The Cuy'val Dar's armor plates bored into Mereel's unprotected ribs, the headlock was so tight that could hear his poor neck making strange sounds again. This wasn't fair!

"I just obeyed sergeant Vau's order, sir... Harada's not up there; it was just the monitoring anklet being dragged further down the pipe by the cleaning droid." Mereel tried to talk his way out of it, wishing himself back into the armor he had to shed before going up into the pipe with a bean-comlink in his ear and his knife clutched between his teeth...

"You are going to accompany me nevertheless. Not everybody takes your shit as lightly as Ms. Harada."

"Don't care. Where is sergeant Skirata?"

"We would know more if our communication was online."

When Vau finished in the med-bay and caught up with them, Mereel didn't look scared, just embarrassed. Vau was going to change that. The Kaminoan technicians and their Sullustian encrypter were fed up stumbling from one problem into another, yet they weren't even sure how many saboteurs they were against.

"What I do next depends on how much grief you'll create for me and my colleagues." Vau said and took Mereel through the transpari-steel walkways over to the parade ground's balcony. He wanted everybody to see them. "Where are your brothers?" He got no answer, so he shot out a line of fibercord in a loop and whipped it around Mereel, jammed the grappling hook between the loops and bend him over the railing. "When you don't tell me, they will."

Mereel knew that Ordo would be up somewhere, sniping with Skirata's verpine. He clung to the railing for dear life, but Vau's whack on the knuckles with the back of a gauntlet made him let go. The boy plummeted and Vau braced for the thumb into his webbing when the rope ran out. His kit was made to take his own weight, but it still winded him. The kid bounced and twisted in the line's strangling grip. Vau kept a few meters of line secured in reserve within the winch assembly.

The tall man in black armor standing on the parade ground's balcony raised the level of his helmet's speakers. "I'm not going to kill you. If I did that, you wouldn't be able to tell me things." He listened on their com-link channel to his colleagues scanning the area for Skiratas deviant clones. "And I want you to tell me things. I'm a curious man."

Vau peered over the side. Mereel was twisting helplessly like a _devee_ hooked on a fishing line and fought for breath. The line was tight around his waist and chest. He was dangling five meters below the rail and many over the ground. Too many. "Think calm thoughts," Vau advised. "Seems your brother takes some more time to remember what exactly he sabotaged. It would be pity if you slipped out of the loop before that."

"Ordo will kill you for that!"

"You are on the end of a line. I'm your anchor on solid ground. Think about it."

A puff of dust from a projectile rose from the railing. Verpines were silent... and penetrated armor. Ordo's voice came over the Cuy'val Dar's com-channel: "Put him back on solid ground, then I might remember."

"Good start" Vau leaned against the railing and paid out another meter of line with a jolt. Mereel shrieked and tried to climb up his own body. "Is that helping? Memory often needs a trigger."

"We've got what we wanted anyway, Mereel." Ordo listed the nodes he had picked out from his eidetic memory.

"If I find you've given me a load of _osik_; I'll be back to finish the job." Vau braced an armored boot on the railing and began winching in the Null, then heaved the kid over the rail in a tangled heap. Mereel had settled for labored breathing.

"So." said Llats as he hauled him to his feet and put him into a holding cell. "Let's fix that, get in touch with the cavalry and find out if we are clear already..."

.oOo.

Kal used the time to the RV-Point with the TIV to make up his mind. He would find out if Fett had a chance to survive and check for Ordo and Mereel. Yes, he had to honor his contract, but his loyalty was with his sons. He was in no position to free and support a whole company, but in worst case, with Fett gone, he would make a runner with the survivors of his family.

Meanwhile, the four Nulls on Board of the TIV had a hard time. They weren't used waiting. This was the worst imaginable punishment! But it certainly drove home a point: "Kal'buir hates help he didn't ask for."

Once Skirata dropped out of hyperspace and had the Null's helpful board computer in his personal comlink's distance, he was patched through to make it a two-ways secure connection. Of all people it was Vau who picked up for Tipoca City.

"We've found Jango, kept him alive with several transfusions until the med-droids mended his right lung wing and an artery and put him into bacta. The intracranial swelling was stopped. I can't say yet if he suffered brain damage or if he's going to survive once we take him off the machines that keep him alive, but Fett doesn't know how to die gracefully like everyone else. Where are Boba and Ms. Harada?"

"I had to drop them off where she requested." Kal grunted. "Couldn't stay with Slave I acting up. How are Mereel and Ordo?"

"Your six deviant blood thirsty kids caused quite some trouble here. We keep Mereel in a holding cell. Ordo's on the run but at least he has stopped sabotaging us further. Get back here and take care of your undisciplined rabble."

"They wouldn't be undisciplined if you weren't a backstabbing _chakaar_ who debated shooting me down. You touch Mereel, I'll put you in a bacta tank next to Fett."

"Shove it, both of you. We need you here, Kal. How can anybody run a war that way?" Rav's voice cut in "Events are overtaking us at breakneck speed."

Having made his point to the Cuy'val Dar surrounding the OPs-table, Vau thought it was time to defuse the situation. "We are not at war yet, nor did we make it all over the holonet so far. That says something about Harada's discretion. Let's sit down and find a way to keep it like that."

Kal acknowledged and coordinated his hyperjump back to Tipoca with the TIV in tow.

.oOo.

Kal's first move was to the holding cell to spring Mereel and make sure the boy was alright before he left him in the care of his five brothers. Then he took his boiling rage at Vau into the meeting.

Skirata marched in on the Cuy'val Dar who weren't indispensable in training or guarding vital points of infrastructure. They probably didn't trust him yet that he had called Ordo off. For an army, it was a pretty democratic gathering anyway. Now he just had to be convincing.

Kal placed Fett's helmet on the OPs-table and dropped code-keys and overwrites beside it. The T-shaped visor embedded in the blue V stared at the rest of the audience as he folded his hands over the silver dome. A hush spread over the room.

"Fett is in bacta for the remains of the week at least, Harada is on the run. Boba agreed to go with her and she handed over all of Fett's kit to me, safe one blaster. So far, we suffered no leak of intelligence. There is a personal issue we have to factor in all this. Let's collate our information before we decide what to do."

"What's there to decide?" Mij Gilamar was angry with himself being the one who had let that woman go when he had her at gunpoint. He would have her hair attached to his shoulder pad for that. "She tried to murder Mand'alor and she is endangering our cover. We've got a starting point. Find and finish her. Return Boba. I can't believe you let her go, Kal!"

"Murder? It looked more like self-defense to me, Mij." Rav cut in. "I don't believe she _invited_ Fett into her quarter that late. Who says she wanted to kill him anyway?

"Ms. Harada wasn't introduced to a bacta tank... yet." Vau drawled "Fett survived only because her knife was a finger width short, my quick response time, exceptional medical equipment and an infinite pool of blood- and tissue-donors."

"She just stabbed and hit once. Fett's still alive after all. She could have cut his head off."

"She's an amateur, but I'm not convinced that it was mere chance. Her failure to kill him got us in the worst possible situation... a leader who's around but cannot lead." Llats Ward analyzed the tactical effects. "Fett said he needs her alive."

"Just whack her quickly then for mercy's sake." Gilamar snorted, "It still doesn't answer why you didn't put down the _arutii_ already _vod'ika_." His tone made clear he was questioning Skirata's courage.

"Fett'd never forgive me if I had, and I wouldn't have forgiven myself, either. Leave it with me. Maybe it's my fault. I promised her safety when she left the battle circle."

"But the _aruetii_ on the loose could throw our whole mission!"

"Okay, _mirsh'eb_. Do it and tell Fett you've killed his two kids."

"Last known position?" Mij raised his eyebrows and stopped short. "_Two_?"

"Oh no!" Isabet burst out laughing as she realized how badly Fett had messed up.

Skirata slapped a datachip with co-ordinates on table in front of Gilamar. "Go on. Let's see if those charts help you to find that particular place Fett tampered with… or you wait a couple of months for his legacy to show itself."

"_Yaihadla_ or not, we still need somebody on her trail. No use to give her a nine months head start?! Check out possibilities to subdue her, then bundle her up and move her back here, arrange med-support for worst case. Just do the decent thing - no penalties."

"This isn't about a subtle legal point." Kal retorted "Did you think it through at all?"

"It's called dynamic risk assessment..."

"...it's making it up as you go along." Vau reminded Mij and gave him an icy I-know-something-you-don't smile.

"Harada did what Fett forced her to do and took responsibility for Boba. She purposefully retained no evidence aside of her testimony, she promised discretion and held her word so far." Kal stated. "But that doesn't mean she's totally inflexible when it comes to her safety."

Rav picked up where Skirata left off. "Despite her tries to integrate herself into our community, known faces or _bes'kar gam_ in her review-cam will upset her... and she will take precautions for that case. Kal pointed out to her that this is a secret project, so she knows of our weakness. I'd be surprised if a hit on her didn't result in compromising our position and strength. No need to plant your big boot into one of her machinations without consulting Fett."

Vau looked up. "I'd rather like to avoid that, too."

"Like what?" Once Mij had come down from his murderous anger, he started listening. Rav and Isabet had been around the girl longer and knew more about his target.

"Like this little decoy in her bed. She rewired a monitoring device with an energy cell and used it to heat a pile of clothing to human body temperature while she was sleeping on the floor in the opposite corner. Simple but effective. She really didn't trust Fett."

"She trapped him!"

"So what's not to trust? Terrify her, treat her like dirt... Aww... anyone can make a mistake..." Isabet mocked Mij "I uprooted those bugs in her flat personally, you know?"

Dred usually smiled a lot, but he wasn't smiling now. "Power pack of my hold-out-blaster." For once he was glad not to stand in the centre of Isabet's attention.

"That's what I'd have done in her situation." Rav challenged Mij with a hard stare "She fought for her freedom fairly and then made use of it. Don't belie the fact that she was entitled to enjoy such aspects as well. Possible misunderstandings are entirely Fett's fault."

"Didn't know he bullied her that badly." Mij Gilamar made a face as he felt a blush spreading over his cheeks. "I was used seeing her around the little one. That's why I let her go with Boba."

"So we know the stakes, and what we stand to lose on both ends." Kal concluded.

"I don't think any answer is the right one here, other than hindsight." Mij agreed.

"Our hands are tied and it stays that way until Fett is in a position to be able to... well, process the news."

"No need to mingle into the personal affairs of our _Mand'alor_." Rav nodded "It's not that we don't have enough work to do here. "

"He knows exactly where to start the search for Tomoe." Kal pocketed the data-chip "Give her a week's time to tire herself out on the run. We will have an eye on transports and data stream to make sure everything stays where I dropped her off. I know a couple of privates who are in for an imposition."

"I hear a _but_ coming..." Dred mused.

Isabet snorted "Fett's got this magic touch with the ladies. What if she tells him to get lost?"

Vau's reputation took care of any objections from other hot-shot colleagues. "She'll need to be persuaded then. Ms. Harada's coming back inside." And he would take care personally that she was in one piece, or the aiwha-baits would get all fuzzy over the new possibilities to upgrade their product...

Vau took the meeting over to schedule modifications. A hundred ARC had to be taken care of for weeks. Maybe forever. Whoever they send on a covert operation, the rest of them would have to share the workload he or she left behind.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Meeting Friends (Day 13)

The morning dawned on a cushion of white mist laying over the river delta. The fog hung like gauzy curtains in the channels between walls of reed. Boba woke at the sound of rope being pulled and the flap of the heavy cover fabric opening. He shivered at the cold air sinking into the boat's rump and groaned in protest, and then his mom leaned over him, indecently awake already.

"Good morning, Boba," she passed him a damp, warm cloth, "For your face and hands."

"Good morning." Boba mumbled. He had trouble to come out of his dreams. He had slept very well -maybe too well considering the situation. Had she slipped him something? The warm dampness of the cloth on his face left a comfortable freshness that helped his bleary eyes. He knelt and leaned over the side to rinse and wring the cloth before handing it back. Then he shook out their sleeping blankets and folded them up. He still couldn't remember that he ate anything she didn't?

Tomoe proceeded to roll up the cover and stored it, then prepared a small breakfast from the remains of their lunch package. The foamy tea she served was brewed from a green powder and low temperature water from a thermos flask. Even that was made from natural materials like everything else on board.

"I'd like to pack up soon and cover a nice distance in the morning before it gets hot," she announced, "We are going to have a look around and pick up the latest news, have a nice long nap at noon then get lost for another night."

Boba nodded silently. He was utterly lost but he trusted his mom to know the way out. Everything was so different. Tasted and smelled different. Slow. No schedule. No homework. He smiled a little. He guessed he would get back to that soon enough. Adults tended to remember such things in the most impossible moments.

Tomoe punted the boat out of the pool and through some smaller channels before employing the rudder again to follow a bigger channel, working against a slow stream. A slight breeze lifted the curtains of fog from the reeds and they covered their heads against the morning sun peeking through. They changed positions regularly and Boba practiced with the harpoon. It wasn't as easy as it looked and most of the fish were small.

His mom just shrunk her shoulders and pushed the boat. "I'd usually set a net for those, but keep on trying. It's good practice – but don't worry, we will pass a more promising area before dinner."

The channel bend and somebody was screaming behind the corner... then laughter. Tomoe announced them with a high warbling sound and was answered before two slightly larger boats came in sight, moored side by side and connected with the punt-poles like a floss to add stability. An old woman was mending a smoking fire place and kept watch over a toddler; naked kids played on board or paddled around in the water, splashing and noisy. 'Bad hunt around here.' Boba thought and wondered what Tomoe saw in them. His mom looked so happy.

Kneeling in the front of the boat, he jerked back at a slender hand coming out of the water to hold on to the board side. He reached for the spear. Then a grown woman's face rose up, she breathed in with a shallow whistle and wiped the water from her face. She smiled at him, saying something that sounded like "Hey...ho..." just longer and thoroughly friendly and polite as she helped Tomoe to push the boat towards the package formed by the two other boats.

Boba winked back hesitantly "Hey." He tried a smile as well as more dark haired heads broke the surface of the water, each trailed by a bucket on a line. They were gathering stuff from the ground of the channel and among the plant growth. The old woman helped Tomoe to tie their boat to the floss. They chatted, looked over to him briefly, chatted more, and helped the younger women who swam around the boats to sort and pile up their gatherings and hand the buckets back down.

He tried to keep record, but it was difficult in the murky water. The grown-ups stayed under water for minutes and left him alone, but the small kids where another case. They paddled around, splashed at him, laughed, called and winked. "You can go for a swim as well if you like, Boba! We won't have lunch before an hour." Tomoe called over and Boba shed his clothing. One of the bigger ones definitely deserved a good dunking for splashing at him and soaking his sandals.

A moment later he had to hand it to them that they were good swimmers, but they were no match for his strength. They were so... childish. Couldn't they be serious? Practice something? Make themselves useful? Instead they were diving for colorful stones and shells in a shallow area they didn't manage to disperse yet with their ruckus while the adult went deeper, rappelling along a network of lines and sinkers within the stream.

Meanwhile, Tomoe helped the old woman with the lunch preparation and chatted. The group came from a village north from the harbor where she had rented their nutshell. She had introduced herself and found out that the hag was loosely related to her midwife. They had started their excursion before dawn, taken one of the main channels deep into the marshes and planned to be home again for a late dinner. Their news were a collection of who-married-who, gave birth, sickness, harvest, accidents, boats, death, festivities and all sorts of family affairs.

The woman mending the boat was bent from age and her bones were sticking out under her loose V-collar, but there was nothing wrong with her mental fitness. She had the perfect overview from town-news to village-gossip and decades of door-to-door communication made her sift through the information faster than any RC giving sitrep. She had probably details about her neighbor's meals down to how often somebody could... if one was so indiscrete to ask or patient enough to listen all day. Luckily, it was lunchtime before that.

The scent was enough to draw the kids away from their game and the other women came out of the water one by one, unloading their wooden buckets. Dressed only in knee-length wrap skirts when diving, they picked up their sturdy blue and white robes and colorful belts from a pile. Covered up, they wrung out the wet underwear and then sat down to have lunch and take a break. They were a well rehearsed team used to operate in cramped surroundings, but a visiting boat enlarged their lunch-time round around the fire place considerably and was well liked.

.oOo.

Boba found a seat beside Tomoe and was handed a bowl filled with a steaming pile of sticky white grains and two little sticks. He found out soon that it was considered impolite to eat without those strange utensils or even reach into the common bowl of fish and vegetable with his fingers like last night. It was cumbersome, but after some practice he managed to snatch bits up to lift them over the short way to his own bowl and shovel them into his mouth from there. "Mom?" he asked between two bites, "Why do they call me ...Taro? I keep on telling them I'm Boba. They nod like they understand, then laugh and go on. That's annoying."

"Oh, I'm sure they understand. You just got yourself a nickname, 'Kintaro' by demonstrating your strength. Kintaro was a child of legendary strength; he was raised in the woods of Mount Ashigara and became friendly with the animals of the mountain, fought evil monsters and later he became a loyal follower of a mighty overlord. He is a popular figure, equally brave and strong, dark skinned, curly hair and a little bossy... you get the idea." Tomoe ruffled his hair and chuckled "Nothing offensive about that name, but I'm going to chase 'em around if they start calling me a mountain witch - yama-uba"

The old hag picked up the last word and cackled then blew the whistle on a more fanciful side of the tale's conception, harping on a certain clap of thunder sent by a red mountain dragon with a suggestive, toothless grin. Tomoe laughed politely and decided against a swim the very moment. The red mark on her back was far from faded and would give the gossip in the marshes an unforgettable spin. "Awww... don't tell me I'm such a haggard appearance already! Yes, I needed a holiday, but is it really that bad?" she put up her best sad-puppy-look.

"No, not at all..." The circle started to reassure her "Are you sure you want to stay out all nights this week? It got hot so quickly this year, we might get some thunder and rain down from the great white one. Tonight or tomorrow... I can feel it in my bones. You could come and visit us at home..."

"We'll be fine... Thanks for your invitation... hmm... in case we are really soaked, could you leave me some oil, please... and has one of you a comb at disposal? My hair's dried out totally." She picked up some strands and switched the topic. – "Yes, of course." Tomoe spent the rest of the lunch break chatting with the friendly diver who had pulled them in, sitting in the shadow of the reed. They dangled their feet in the cool water that passed the rudder platform slowly, combed and oiled each other's hair until shone like raven wings.

Since the adults made sure that the stuffed kids would rest for an hour after lunch while they got back to work themselves, Boba was bored by that sudden bout of laziness. Nevertheless he made himself comfortable on the folded boat-cover and scanned the surroundings through half-lidded eyes. The divers' sleek yet rounded shapes looked nothing like dad, but a lot like Tomoe. Some seemed to be younger, some older... they were all shorter and less defined in general. His mom was very well trained indeed and it showed. They had a nice golden tan on them, which resembled his own coloring. Tomoe looked pale among them, yet she denied shedding her clothing in the full sun. Wasn't she sweating under that jacket?

Boba sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. It was nice not to be the smallest for once. He and bossy? No way! The others were just childish. Probably telling all sort of rubbish when they thought he could not understand them. But he could still see enough. Growing up among helmeted clones had given him a good understanding of body language.

An angry bawling on the next boat ripped him from his thoughts. The toddler had woken from a long nap, the first grumping and struggling had been ignored by its mom who was currently under water. Now it requested immediate attention in ear splitting frequencies. _Mom's_ attention! Granny's or aunt's attention wasn't good enough for the little bugger. The woman lifted her bucket over the ship's side, hoisted herself up with a sigh and picked up her infant.

And then it happened... The baby clawed and bit into one of the round mounds on her chest, chewing happily! Boba stared, all wide eyed shock. The woman didn't seem to mind, rocking the ferocious little beast with a gentle smile on her face. Then she looked up and saw the strange boy staring at her. She pouted and turned her back on him with a shrug, calling something to Tomoe, who answered with the sound of an apology? Whatever it was, it didn't sound abusive and made the other woman chuckle.

.oOo.

Tomoe let things settle down until the kids woke from their naps all over the three-boats-float, then sighed contently and excused them. "We want to go a good distance today and we still have to make raincoats, just in case." The other kids jumped back into the water as if they were born there and they continued their journey deeper into the marshes. Some hours later, they stopped to cut a load of a special sort of reed growing in spots along the channel. Boba noticed that water pearled off its long, flexible spires, but "Waterproof clothing... from this?" he was skeptical.

Tomoe continued to push the boat away from the cut marks, then let the boat drift and settled down beside him on the middle bench to show him how to braid the thick ends of the spires into a strong but flexible ribbon. The long ends of the spires frayed out from one side. After a while, Boba held up the little fray-curtain he had managed to braid and shifted it from side to side "That's a pretty short raincoat."

Tomoe chuckled from the back "You are a small person, but I suggest you make more of that and then tile the layers to make it longer."

Boba sighed and continued braiding. Why did everything take so long? "Are you sure it will rain?"

Unfazed, she continued to move the boat. "It's not Kamino, but sooner or later it will rain. Then a coat is a nice thing to have." Not to mention the natural materials made a perfect camouflage.

"What did you tell the woman with the toddler?"

"She scolded us for staring at her and asked me when I intended to teach you manners… so I told her that you didn't have a mother until yesterday and that we are still working out the details."

"Oh, okay." Boba considered. Being literary always worked with him. "Is it normal here to let a child chew on one's chest like that?"

"Eat _from_... yes. The baby has no or few teeth and as it grows older it knows how to do it. I can't remember myself doing it, but I've been told the suckling doesn't hurt. Breastfeeding is perfectly natural. It's nurturing and healthy for both, mother and child. It's the quickest way to calm down small children, even if they already eat other food or if they aren't terribly hungry."

"Don't worry, Dad used to carry me around a lot when I was small, but can't remember that I did that with him, either."

"I'm pretty sure you didn't. Dads cannot do that with their children, just mothers after childbirth and only for a limited time. It ends when the infant settled on eating other things."

"Because he doesn't have...?" Boba hinted with his hands at his chest, searching his mind for the right expression. It wasn't a topic that had come up in his life so far.

"Men do have mammary glands, but they are small and not developed for milk production."

"Hmm..." Boba considered that silently. Apparently, things could be done very different, but one could do without that sort of feeding. At least, his body wasn't missing anything it should have. "Are you going to do that with my sister, too?" he asked curiously.

Tomoe jumped a little. She had never talked about pregnancy with Boba, nor had she any gender information herself. It was really too early to tell, but Boba seemed to take something for granted. She had no clue what ideas Fett had planted in his mind. "When I have a child, I'll breastfeed, too, if there is no medical reason against it… but how do you know it will be a girl?"

"Dad told me." Boba wrinkled his forehead and tried to remember the conversation in detail "No, that's not quite right. He asked me what I thought about having a little brother or sister, then he told me about his older sister." He smiled up at her hopefully "I told him I'd like to have a sister, please."

"Patience, Boba... I have no influence on the gender. I just hope everything will go well."

"Then who can?" He would tell the responsible aiwha-bait that he wanted a sister this time, _afterwards_ he would wait most patiently.

"I'm afraid it's all set already, I just didn't find out such details yet."

Boba was disappointed and it showed. They specified everything from looks over height and weight to mindsets on Kamino – if one overlooked that mistake with the Nulls – and here they couldn't even take care of a single detail like gender? How backward was that?! "How can you set things and don't remember about them afterwards?"

Tomoe was about to snap something at the boy along the line 'I'm not a glass vat!' but fought down that urge in the last moment. She was just overstrained. Boba knew she wasn't a vat and it wasn't his fault after all. Where should he know those things from? He was no more insistent to get a satisfactory answer than in other cases. She sighed and started explaining.

"While clones are copies of a host with basically identical attributes, human children are usually the result of the combination of both their parents' genetic material. That material is split in each parent's body and later, the two halves coming from the mother and the father are recombined into a single cell within the mother's body. From there it starts to develop into a human child."

Boba nodded and came to the conclusion that since she didn't know... "I'm sure dad split it so it develops into a sister for me."

"It's not that easy. The parents can take precautions whenever they want a child or not, but they cannot take influence on its genetic configuration, since the split doesn't follow a conscious decision."

"Then how do you know it works?" To leave something important to mere chance was so not-his-dad.

"It's like breath, or heartbeat or digestion. It works. You don't have to think about that, either."

"I can stop breathing when I want to."

"That's because you are partially aware of that, but all in all, your conscious mind just controls the higher functions of your body, and does not reach organ- or even cell activity. There are just too many cells in your body to keep them all in your mind. No human can, but that's alright for us. You've got some fifty-fifty chance."

"Shame... but I'll wait." He hunched over his work then turned around and smiled as he got another idea. "And I promise I won't complain when it becomes another little brother." He could play with a brother as well as with a sister… it would just be more similar to previous experiences. But from now on he would do the dunking, not Jaing.

.oOo.

Deep in the marshes, Tomoe moored the boat in the vicinity of a little island to give Boba a chance to feel firm ground under his feet again. Once the patch of land had even sustained some trees, but they had suffered in storm and lightning, the bare and broken tree tops towering over wild undergrowth like dead hands clawing into the sky. The forks made nesting places of large birds whose housings looked like unruly bundles with branches, reed and feathers sticking out and years' worth of waste underneath. The air was filled with their sharp calls and flapping wings.

"Don't try to climb up there. They defend their young viciously." Tomoe warned Boba, dropped the hat on the rudder platform and wiped her forehead. It had been a hot day that wasn't going to cool down quickly as the sun sank deeper and deeper over the sea "I'm going to have a swim as well and gather some additions for dinner, then I will help you braid." She shed her clothing, folded and placed it inside the large flat basket of her hat, then slid into the water without as much as a splash.

"Go ahead." Boba tried to follow her with his eyes, but Tomoe was already gone in the murky water of this eerie place. She could vanish, alright, but she had left her knife half hidden between the layers of clothing. She would be back soon. He had another look around, spotting her at the far end of the pool. She was doing the long round obviously, then came back, dropped her findings inside the boat and pulled herself up on the platform in the back. Water ran off her oiled tresses and pearled on her skin until she wiped it down.

"Do we have to stay here? They make a terrible noise." The calls reminded him a lot of _aiwhas_ in fact. Of course the beasts were much smaller, but what if they teamed up against them? He was pretty sure that nobody else was around within several clicks. "We've got enough light left to go elsewhere."

"I like it here." Tomoe smiled and came forwards to ruffle his hair. "Remind me to take care of your hair later... and don't worry, the birds will calm down again at nightfall." She sat down and grabbed a handful of reed, setting up her own braiding while her skin dried in the light evening breeze. "They are just chatting with each other what happened during the day."

"You can understand what they say?" Boba cocked his head.

"Just a little." Tomoe smiled "Birds overview catch. They know about weather. They warn of enemies. Listen and watch. It won't take you long to tell their usual and unusual behavior apart.

Boba hmmed. Military grade sensory would do the job... more precisely. But he listened anyway.

The tips of the reed shone in their most splendid greens and the sinking sun immersed the water in shades of gold interlaced with deepest browns and black as the spearhead of a ripple ran through the surface. "Tomoe?" Boba whispered.

"Ah, there he is already" Tomoe put down her braiding and leaned over the board side as a pointed muzzle and a huge roundly head pooped through the shimmering surface and nudged her face. Water pearled off short black fur. Boba stared at a pair of huge round eyes as dark as his own. Long lashes winked at him over a moist gleam that spoke of intelligence. "Boba, may I introduce my friend Moronoko..." her voice was a soft purr over the wheezing of the animal's breath that ruffled sturdy whiskers. "Moronoko... this is my son, Boba."

The large head turned to him and a thick neck that joined into slim shoulders pushed further out of the water as it turned to acknowledge the boy with a surprisingly high-pitched whoop that smelled of fish and predator.

"More... what?"

"Moro-no-ko. Moro's small one." Tomoe dubbed for him.

"Small?!" Boba inquired. He hadn't seen much of it yet, but when the rest went with the head, the beast was huge!

"...not quite so small anymore." Tomoe chuckled and dipped her head and spine in a copy of the fluent motions of the predator in the water, and then nothing held her on board anymore. "Come on..." She laughed and just dropped over board with a sound splash, came up like a rubber ball and hugged the large animal. The sleek shape seemed to wrap around her mid and thighs like a furred black serpent as both of them went under water. The ripples of a last splash of the powerful black gleaming tail and a trail of bubbles were all the unequal couple left on the surface of the murky pool.

Boba retrieved Tomoe's knife and clutched the frail railing that was the border to the strange beast's territory. It looked like it was drowning her, but she had been so full of herself a moment ago, so happy? The show of affection looked murderous to him and they still weren't coming up, just kicking up more sludge from the ground of the pool here and there. "Mom?" He called as the second minute ticked by. 'Don't get nervous, mom's a good diver... but spending lots of energy down there for such a long dive?!' He belted the knife, unwrapped the mooring line from the punt pole and fought with the stubborn bar Tomoe had rammed into the ground. Meanwhile, the ruckus continued. He couldn't hope to fight a creature of the marshes down in its own element; he needed a longer lever to break up the fight!

Tomoe felt the boat dancing around the bar widely and came up slanted over Moronoko's back, her long hair as black and gleaming as his fur. "What's wrong?" she lifted her head for the inquiry and winked "Just come in." She wasn't quite out of breath.

Boba let go of the pole but shook his head defensively. "I can't dive like that."

"Nobody's going to dunk you. We'll stay on the surface, alright?" She slipped down and pushed over to clutch the railing, stabilizing the nutshell with a couple of strokes. "It's just that I haven't swum with Moronoko for a long time. We've got lots of things to tell each other."

"What IS he?" Boba asked desperately, but put the knife down hesitantly and fingered with his belt knot. "He's a sentient being, isn't it?"

"He's a _Hi-inu_, a great hunter of the mountain cliffs, the wind and the water. Come in and see yourself. He's eager to see my youngling himself." She rested her own head against Moronoko's and watched Boba strip and climb into the water circumstantially. "There is no danger, just give me your hand, so he can take in your scent."

The whiskers tickled Boba's palm as the wet muzzle wheezed against his hand, the large slim body floating in the water with slight control strokes of paws with webs between long, near fragile looking fingers adorned with sets of sharp ebony claws. The whiskers probably hid an equal long set of fangs. How someone could choose to wrestle with those without even considering putting on armor was beyond him.

Somewhat satisfied, Moronoko pressed his muzzle under Tomoe's chin, nuzzling the nape of her neck "Yes, smelly, I know." She pulled the patch off her throat, baring unscarred skin. "It's called _bacta_." The hunter sneezed disparagingly then a deep growl rose from somewhere below the water. "The _gaijin_ use it for healing. There's more on my leg. Gone in a few days, I promise."

Moronoko continued to explore all the new scents his friend brought from her journey among the stars. Alien materials. Unknown people... even her own scent was changed subtly, as if she had mated somebody with the exact scent of the adolescent paddling beside her. Curious. He took another sniff on the cub's hand, running his nose up the golden skin of his slender arm. Yes, just like him. Just add some adult musk. "Two of a kind?" He whooped an inquiry.

"Yes, there are more like Boba. Many, many children like him up to twice his age." Her hands and body were talking "And a man, a dangerous hunter of a clan that smells of metal, artificial oils, fire weapon's discharge and _bacta_. They are _not_ welcome." Tomoe's soft purr transformed into a chittering bark.

"But I miss him, Tomoe," Boba protested "I want my dad!"

"They find me, they cage or kill us. We find them, we hunt." She hissed under her breath "_Hajime_!"

Moronoko sneezed in approval. He got more of that soiled scent already than his sensitive muzzle could bear. In fact, he had smelled it on her through the breeze and waters once she had entered his territory. HIS territory. They would swim together and the stream and mud would purify her and that youngling from that in-natural stench and the marks soiling her back. "The _gaijin_ alpha-male is gone..." she ran her fingers through Boba's hair and over her own body before holding it out to Moronoko "But if you take in his musk, leave him to me. He's very dangerous."

The Hi-inu slanted his body over her in an affectionate shove and nuzzled the back of her neck and growled. Boba yelped at long ebony fangs dug in the back of Tomoe's white neck and transported their meaning: "So am I, cub..." the water-creature stared back at him with an expression of constant vigilance of a natural hunter.

Tomoe chuckled and shoved back with a splash "C'mon, you aren't a day older than I." She pushed her head under his muzzle and again, the waves drowned their whooping.

.oOo.

She was alone as she came back to Boba who was sitting on the raised platform that made the back of the boat. "Dinnertime," she announced casually and wiped herself down.

"How can you do that?" he got right to the point.

"Defend myself, you mean?" Tomoe arched a brow.

"Put this... monster on dad... on our friends?"

"Nothing forces them to track me down. They hunt me, I hunt them. It's called survival of the fittest... and in case you didn't notice, they are more than the two of us and they kill for a living. High time to call in reinforcements"

"They wouldn't kill you."

"Oh yes, they would." Tomoe's voice stayed level as she stirred a fire in the brazier. "They hold their secret dearer than sentient lives. I'm not going back into a cage. From their point of view that leaves them no choice but to wipe out our little clan."

"But you _were_ free?"

"Don't mistake a larger cage for freedom, Boba."

It was his home she was talking about! Air-conditioned, clean, comfortable... safe. It was madness to leave that. "I want to go home. I want dad."

"Jango has made his decision, forced me to react and you to make a choice. Now is the time to stick to your choice. I don't do interstellar travelling and I cannot transform into your dad."

"You shouldn't have messed with him then!"

The boy had reached his limits for the day, but so had she because of his constant taxing her patience. Her voice became steel. "Boba, I suggest you shut up until you have regained your posture," she continued dinner preparations; they focused intently on their food and still gave each other the silent routine during their evening chores.

Chapter 8.1 – Bedtime story, for real (Evening Day 13)

While he ignored Tomoe openly, inwardly, Boba counted the hours and compared travel times. They had been dropped off in the morning, plus seven hours for dad to arrive when Kal called right away. They had been on the ferry then and nothing had happened. Maybe dad was hurt worse than last time? If Kal had travelled back, he would have arrived in Tipoca in the evening and reinforcements should have been on their heels the next morning at the latest. But nothing had disturbed their breakfast. Nothing had happened all day and they had made plenty of noise.

Now it was getting late, they were in the middle of a big floating nowhere. These were surroundings out of his experience. Maybe they were as confused as he was. Or the big black beasts had stalked up to them, drowned them or ripped their throats out. Finally, anxiousness won over stubbornness. It was a small boat and he wasn't feeling well.

"Tomoe?" his voice was a lot smaller than before.

Tomoe looked up from her braiding. Her raincoat would take considerably more work than his. "Yes, Boba?"

"Will you know if Moronoko kills Cuy'val Dar?" - "Yes." - "Nothing happened so far?" - "Nothing, Boba."

"Uhm okay." He started another attempt to pacify her. "You said you wanted to do something with my hair to keep the water away?"

"Yes." Tomoe got a comb and a small bottle of oil, sat beside him on the middle bench and started untangling his hair. Boba sniffed around for perfume. "That doesn't smell as nice as your hair did."

"Because it's the same oil I use for my knife... the pure sort. At home, I occasionally use perfumes and incense. But here we don't want to flag our way with odor marks." She avoided mentioning that she could pick out Mandalorian weapon lubricants over quite a distance.

"How does it come that Moronoko can understand what you say... more than other animals, I mean?"

"Hi-Inu are intelligent but think as different from humans as they move. Nevertheless, they count to the beings who can reach enlightenment. Some say they are vicious, ghostly killers from the shadows, but they are merciful and compassionate and help dying warriors to find their way into the shadow realm. Many people are frightened, but the real monsters wear human skin. Just make sure you are not bleeding when you venture the marshes"

"Hmm..." Boba wasn't sure if he understood the difference. Dead was dead, after all.

"Time for bed anyway, Boba." Tomoe reminded him and started closing up the boat where it lay hidden in the reed. She slipped under the blankets beside him and closed the mosquito net before she continued.

"Some said my family would own a pack of them, but it never worked that way. Moro and her clan were never minions of the Harada-clan. They were never livestock but partners working side by side, connected by lifelong friendships. Hi-inu are long living creatures, growing far older than humans, but Moronoko and I were blessed to grow up together. We are of one breath and very protective of each other, especially since his mother died protecting me."

"How did that happen?"

"_The Trade Union wanted to open a settlement here despite the fact the planet had banned interstellar travel for centuries to maintain peace. They armed up different sides which lead right into a civil war. What was on top of the society fell, and what had been on the bottom ruled. The new rulers were less than interested in maintaining the bonds of the warrior class, especially those who served incorruptible struck fear into their hearts. _

_By then, my father had died in a nuclear blast, taking my mom with him as she skipped her duties to search for him in the contaminated city area, leaving no male heir behind. My grand uncle had fought in one of the last open stands of the old warriors against the new ways. Once they were gone, the new executives made up false claims to wipe out the clan-records altogether with their obligations like alimonies and pension claims. _

_But that wasn't enough damage for those who could live of the land and would still wear their head high. The Harada-clan was well known. An example had to be made for those who claimed their rights. That's why they sent a whole battalion of their new model of soldiers to burn our homestead to the ground. My grandfather died in the first blast that left a gaping hole where his small forge had been. My grandmother grabbed me and we ran for the woods, down to the river to find Moro." _

"A whole battalion for a surprise attack on two old people and you?"

"_Yes, and to scatter a couple of servants and the neighboring peasant folk. They were still peeing themselves. As they could not find us, they set the fields ablaze. My grandma bought me time by cutting down the burning plant growth with her halberd. I waded through the reed and jumped into the stream and was pulled downstream by Moro-sama._

_They are superb swimmers and divers and water is a good protection against high speed projectiles and energy weapons, but up in the mountains, the stream is clear and shallow as it jumps over the cliffs and they hit her nevertheless. It took her days to die from her wounds. It was the last time I shared the breath of one of her clan until today. That's why Moronoko has no love for the bearers of energy weapons. He won't hold your skills against you, but he won't let history repeat itself, either."_

"What did you do then?"

"I got a job at the Sen-Ike and enlisted in the arts academy."

"Didn't they find you?"

"Oh, they knew, they just didn't care. Back then, females couldn't take up the lead of a warrior family. Without heirloom but governmental grudge following me, I wasn't a good match. There was no patriarch left to adopt a possible suitor to continue our line anyway. I have given up my status and in return, they let me live to shame myself further."

Tomoe laughed dryly.

"I'm sort of a late starter and I have a loose tongue, but being raised by a mother with education and manners and having a well-trained body, I could catch up on things. I was to take the exams this winter, but I doubt I'll be at my most graceful in six months. I might need to look for an alternative anyway..."

Tomoe smiled softly in the dark and wiped a strand of hair from his forehead. "Don't worry about that. Sleep well."

"You, too." Boba turned the information over and over in his head. Maybe his mom could get away with things others could not. He woke some hours later because the wind had picked up, lightning slashed through the clouds and thunder rolled from the high mountains on the horizon. Tomoe pulled the cover over the mosquito net just before the rain started pounding down. In the darkness of the nutshell, Boba snuggled in his mother's embrace and listened to the sound of the water.

It nearly felt like home.

Chapter 8.2 – So this is Hell – Twilek, Vau (Day 13)

_Something flowed up his body slowly. A tingling sensation spread from his feet and up his ankles and thighs as the jelly enveloped him like a giant amoeba. His head rung like he was suspended in the centre of a huge bell, the right side of his forehead hurt like fire burning in pitch black darkness. Talons dug into his chest, puncturing skin and muscle. Move it, Jango! Thick liquid constrained his movement, and then his fist crashed against an impenetrable barrier._

_He couldn't scream. He tasted blood in his mouth, filling it. A tentacle was set into his throat. He would suffocate! A picture came up in front of his inner eye... blue skin, bared blackened fangs, turquoise eyes leering at him "Are you interested in this fine specimen?" His defensive punch was met by a rock solid surface. The Twilek slaver's thick blue lekku plunged down his throat while another wrapped around him, constricting his ribs. "Closer..." Another wave of pain crashed through his chest._

"Raise sedatives! He isn't switched off by the normal level of medication." Gilamar tried to untangle the pipes for assisted breathing. The med-droid was too slow and too clumsy to handle their trashing leader.

"We just took him off the machine and put him back on natural circulation, can't slow that again right now – Restraints!"

Vau's free hand tightened a set of belts that ran down the wall of the container to the surgical harness. "Hold this." Once Gilamar secured the line, Walon withdrew his long arm from the liquid that filled the tank and shook lumps of green jelly from his gauntlet with a disgusted snarl on his face. "His cerebrum should be on holiday. That must be his animal side still active. Get here, Bralor..."

"Save it, Jango." A woman's voice came up "_Udesii_... you are in a bacta tank. Relax. We are taking care of you. Calm down... leave it to us, son..."

Finally, the man in the pipe ceased thrashing.

.oOo.

Vau used his evening downtime to unfold the sheets of flimsy with the strange signs he had liberated from the box that held Tomoe's belongings. It was a distinctive script, fluent and graceful like the woman who wrote it. One of the notes was dubbed in _aurabesh_:

_The long rains falling_

_Provoked you to consider_

_Your mortality-_

_Listening to the same rain_

_Provokes me to think of mine..._

Walon smiled and read it aloud to Mird, then folded the flimsy and shoved it into the inner breast pocket of his body glove for safe keeping. Then he researched on the origin on the alien language to decipher and locate it. Skirata, the manipulative old _chakaar_ liked to stay closed down like an oyster. Which was fine as long as it concerned the other uncontrolled brutes like Gilamar, but Walon wanted a head start when push came to shove.

Fett was clinging to his life stubbornly, but he wasn't doing too well, either.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Arguments and Hunting (Day 14)

In the morning, the nightly rain had cooled down the warm air noticeably, so a cold fog was hanging over the reed. Boba felt the cold seep through the opening Tomoe had created in the front of the boat when she rose to get the brazier going with stiff hands. Her raincoat draped over her shoulders like a _wampa_-fur, a barbarian pelt of brownish-greens. The heavy rain had ceased to a slight drizzle that seeped through the mist.

Boba curled his bare toes into the blanket, pulled the second sheet around his shoulders shivering as he searched for his tunic. It wasn't freezing cold, just wet and nasty. But Tomoe was a morning person and handed him a warm washcloth while tasking him.

"Fold up our stuff, please. Keep everything wrapped and dry in the cover. We'll have to wipe up incoming water regularly today." She turned back to the brazier to make them breakfast. Tea, yesterday's rice, some uncooked veggies and eggs of sorts. Some white ash clung to the rim of the yellow glob, but it didn't taste bad at all. It just didn't fill him up like food board.

Tomoe ate and studied Boba's face. Her boy was cold, his moral was low and he was used more proteins in his diet than she provided. He would accustom given time, but not as quickly as she was pushing it in the moment. If he fell ill, she couldn't take care of him properly in a small boat in the middle of nowhere.

He could feel her gaze resting on him "I'm fine. Can we go? It's warmer when I move."

"Of course." She helped him folding up the large boat cover. The force from her pulling out the punt pole shook the boat and they were on the way. "You can take over the rudder once we reach a bigger channel. That will warm you up."

Boba nodded and sat in the front, watching leaves and lost feathers trail in the slight bow wave. "You declared yourself _dar'manda_ so they let you go?" he caught up with last night's tale.

"That's how they took it at eyesight... like the marshes: left alone because I'm _no use_ for them." Tomoe chuckled dryly. "Most wars are no use but for useless people far behind the front line, so I'm happy being sorted out like that. I still have all it takes."

Boba stepped up on the rudder platform as she turned the boat into a bigger channel. He was wet, cold and miserable. "Are you afraid of becoming _dar'manda_?" She asked. He dipped his head, the rim of his head concealing his face. "Tell me what makes you Mando."

"_Ba'jur bal bes'kar gam, aran'ov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mandalor- an vencuyan mhi. "_

"So your Mando'a survived just fine," Tomoe smiled, "while I still have much to learn from you to make up a conversation. Our protective instinct is so ingrained with us; we couldn't stop it even if we wanted to. You will wear armor in training, in tournament and probably on the job when you are grown up. Up to you." ...and here comes the tricky part... "In regard of the _Mand'alor_... let's wait and see who's chosen. I could live with Skirata if he doesn't try to kill me in return."

So he wouldn't be _dar'manda_, technically, but... "and with dad?"

"Been there, figured that." Tomoe's face locked up. Sooner or later the boy had to come around!

But Boba didn't leave up. "You really think you killed him?"

"Happens to guys who try to murder me in my sleep - _Mand'alor_ or not."

"How do you know?"

"He broke into my quarter with a weapon drawn."

"Maybe he just wanted to visit?"

"Could have used the door buzzer and left his blaster in the holster."

"Maybe you didn't hear the buzzer, so dad went in to check if you were alright?"

"With a drawn blaster? …and no, he did NOT buzz."

"Maybe something was wrong with the door panel and he thought you had been attacked?"

"Unlikely. He didn't knock in the shower room either."

"That was a public room."

"It was still impolite of him."

"But you didn't attack him there."

"If he had drawn a weapon on me in the shower room I would have."

"Just because of impoliteness?"

"Impolite sums him up pretty well, yes."

"Would you kill me, too?"

"I'd teach you manners."

"You could have taught him, too, instead of killing him."

"I tried. I failed."

"What if you fail with me?"

"I won't. You are as a quick learner as you are argumentative."

"Because I know not to stare?"

"Because you have learned about lots of plants and animals and boats and new weapons the past days. Manners and customs will come with daily life." She had to give the kid something to do before she lost her patience as well. "Let's start with your third language."

"Fourth. I speak a little _Huttese_ as well."

Tomoe shoved the rudder in his hands and started with the first sentence of an introduction, then let him repeat. Bouncing words to and thro, they covered a good distance. It changed Boba's status to warm, low morale and ravenous. The boy would eat the hairs from her head. But at least it had stopped raining.

She barbecued another fishy lunch, they ate and she returned to the back, leaning on the rudder. "Let's try something new." She announced and Boba cocked his head curiously. "Let's check out things at home, have a hot bath and dinner at a real fire place. Pop up, then vanish for another night and see if something happens."

Boba smiled. Home, bath and food sounded really good, especially when combined.

In the late afternoon, Tomoe browsed their fishing equipment and came up with a bent piece of hard wood. "Alright..." she pushed it under the back of her belt. "_K'uur_..."she put a finger over her lips, then checked the direction of the breeze. Somehow she managed to move the boat through the tiny channel more silently. The channel passed a lake with a scattered flock of waterfowls. Tomoe retrieved the wood and let the boat continue the gliding approach. Several heads cocked, nervousness broke out, and then the whole swarm took flight. Tomoe stood upright on the rudder platform and hurled the wood. "_Oya_!"

Boba watched two birds tumble and drop into the lake. "Stick's coming back!" mom yelled and Boba ducked at the wood dropping into the water next to the boat, and then fished it out with a wide smile "_Kandosii_!Can I give it a try, too?"

"It's duck for dinner." Tomoe commented and turned the boat to collect her prey, snapping the bird's necks quickly and cleanly. "You could if I had hit just one bird but for now we have enough for ourselves and can hand one to Ukon for her troubles. Never hunt more than you can eat."

"_Tion'cuy Ukon?" _

"_Ner ori'vod... _ My '_O-ne-san'_ like an 'older sister'... She's taken up the role, but she's old enough to be my granny... and she's really nice."

"Hmm." His small clan was growing rapidly. But then, he had never had an aunt or a granny or an animal for family. Dad would be surprised if he came back. He certainly would not feel lonely any time soon.

Chapter 9.1 – Home (Day 14)

Tomoe pushed the light boat into a channel with more current and worked harder to move up the stream. The scenery changed quickly from reed-wilderness into large orchards surrounding small huts. Fruit trees grew along the raising river banks. Every lot of land seemed to have its own footbridge. Suddenly they were back in civilization, a bustle of small boats passing by in the evening sun. People seemed to come home from work or markets, baskets with food and flowers, live animals and all sorts of goods loading the boats.

She moored their boat at one of the private footbridges, and then grabbed the tied ducks and their thermos flask. She jumped ashore, holding out her hand to Boba. He was glad to be back on firm ground, even when it was creaking wood. "Don't you secure the boat?" Tomoe looked over her shoulder "That knot should hold and it doesn't look like it will rain again tonight."

"But it is _open_. What if people take the boat away or grab stuff from it?"

"Nobody will." Tomoe opened her raincoat to the evening sun but kept it around her shoulders. "Everybody has open boats and thin walls, so people are pretty honest around here and take care of their neighborhood."

Boba nodded silently and they walked up the narrow path in the plant growth together. A small hut marked the entrance to the orchard, but it was deserted and they continued down an alley parallel to the channel. Tomoe occasionally greeted people with a nod, then suddenly took a step to the side and stopped walking. Boba froze; ready to duck into cover, but Tomoe just pulled her hat reverently to an old man that came down the alley with a swing in his step that defied his age. His deeply etched dark face made even Kal look like a young man.

'Here we go again' Boba thought. 'More chatting.'

But his mom just bowed, the hat held closely in front of her. A smile spread over the old man's face as if he hadn't recognized her on the first glimpse. His voice was a low rumble that couldn't get loud. Tomoe asked a few questions before she replaced her hat and their ways split again. This time, Tomoe was quicker in filling Boba in "This was the gardener of the resort. I told him it's our boat moored at his footbridge and asked for news from home. Nothing unexpected happened, but there are a couple of packages waiting for me." Tomoe tilted her head and considered. "And the head of the resort is less than happy with my absence, so we'll just slip in on Ukon-san and get lost again. I'm in no condition to put up with _Okasan_ tonight."

.oOo.

They took a path to the backside of the resort area, slipping in through a small garden gate, not far from the point where Jango had disembarked the Slave I. Boba wondered if the foot prints of his heavy armored boots were still visible in the humus between the trees. The burns of the sublight engines would be. The cottages all looked very similar to him, but the pond helped his orientation. "_K'uur_." Tomoe's steps suddenly hurried up and they slipped up a veranda and around the corner of a white paper wall. She suddenly pulled Boba back sharply and knocked lightly on a wooden protective board at the back of the cottage. Then she sat back on her heels, her hat draped over her knees.

Nothing happened at first. Boba was about to look around as the board was moved aside and somebody peeked through the crack "Tomoe-chan!" The crack widened and revealed a woman of about Kal's age kneeling on the floor inside. His mom bowed and so did he, as it was polite. A low voiced exchange followed...

"Good evening, Onesan." – "I'm so glad you are back, I worried a lot." – "Just for a few hours, but we will be back for real in a few days." – "Okasan's going to fire you." – "She can't fire somebody who isn't around." – "Then she'll do it once you are back." – "Security is her responsibility." – "I have guests, Tomoe-chan." – "I know." Tomoe passed Ukon the ducks in the bowl of her hat "We just want to warm up in the bath, eat something... then we get lost again for another night... at least." Ukon received the gift with another small bow. "I'll make something nice. You look terrible. Meet you in your place later." Tomoe bowed deeply and the board slid close.

"Let's head for the bath. We smell ...ripe." They withdrew over the path they had come and took another crossing that lead to another thatched building on the side of the main bath-house. "Servants' bath." She peeked through a crack in the wood work. "Deserted as usual at this time." She hid their raincoats behind a large pine tree that towered over the wooden bath house and ushered Boba to enter. "Be careful with the light when you approach those paper-walls. You can't see through, but your shadow can be seen from the inside."

Boba nodded and placed his clothing in the basket Tomoe offered him. They grabbed towels and proceeded into the bathroom. He was aware that Tomoe kept her knife close, hidden in a washcloth. "We wash before we enter the basin." She informed him and settled on a small stool in front of a tap. There was plenty of running water and a soap that didn't smell antiseptic but discreetly of plants. Boba leaned into her as she soaped his hair and scrubbed his back. He was so tired again. Tomoe smiled and rinsed the foam off with a bowl of lukewarm water. "Don't fall asleep on me just yet." He straightened up with a low groan "My back needs another scrubbing." She reminded him, 'and half a dozen of peelings, probably.' Only then she could visit a bathhouse to the usual times...

Boba returned the favor and they reclined in the steaming basin. "Nice alternative to a sonic shower." The boy commented and skimmed the water surface, looking around lazily. One side of the building was open and allowed the air to circulate. The roof above was wood, the thick rafters darkened from age and the constant humidity ensnaring them. The rim of the basin was formed by large rough stone that looked polished along the edges. On the garden-side, moss grew along them and formed a transition to the rustling, high grass growing outside. A bench was embedded in the sunken tub. The water reached Tomoe's shoulders just barely, but he was still too short to be comfortable when sitting, so he knelt and later rested his head on the stones to float in the water. "_Kandosii_." He could stay here forever.

But Tomoe straightened up before long. "Let's have dinner before we are all drained by the water's minerals. We need to keep our wits about us." Boba nodded and grabbed the towel she passed him. He felt terrible relaxed already. They dried off and went back to the dressing room. He didn't get to reach for his tunic because Tomoe shook a blue and white robe out in front of him. He slipped his arms into the sleeves. The material felt cool and fresh on his skin, but there was a problem... "Isn't that a little long?"

Tomoe giggled and helped him to tie the trailing hem up. "One-size-for-all. You are going to grow out of it... in a few years. Remember how I do it..." For now, the fold she made around his waist reached down to his mid-thigh, but at least he wasn't stumbling over the hem. His mom sent him off with a pad on the bottom and got dressed herself. Boba felt that he was too old to be dressed and watched how she was doing it. The fold she made on herself barely reached her hip and she tied the skirt a lot narrower than his. She grabbed the bundle with their 'ripe' clothing, they slipped into their straw sandals and they made their way back to the cottage next to Ukon's.

.oOo.

Tomoe's eyes run over every detail of the structure, roof and even underneath before she entered through the backdoor. It looked neat on the outside, but the inside was a chaos, thrown blankets, dried and crumbled flower arrangements, a ruined scroll and shards that littered the floor. At least the water had seeped into the blankets instead of staining the floor mats, but it was still a mess. "Uhm yes. Lot's of work to do." Tomoe commented, closed the slide door behind Boba and went on to check on her home. No hidden enemies... no monitoring devices. She knew any crevice of her place from daily cleansing by hand. A pile of boxes sat beside to the main entrance. She checked the numbers and contents briefly, then took the whole pile in the next room. Boba followed closely.

She stored two of the boxes on the bottom of her locker. "Formal clothing for tomorrow – maybe - and some old baubles I might need to cash in." She opened the box that still sat on the floor. "This was the last pair of sabers that left my Grandpa's forge before he switched to making kitchen knives. He wanted my son to have them... he believed in changing times." While the larger bundle snugly fit into the box diagonally, she took the shorter out and unwrapped the brocade hull reverently. "You are far too young to wear them as a pair, but you have learned how to handle this. I present it to you for the case you have to defend yourself against enemies who don't care about your age."

The blade she slid from the gold-stitched hull had a matte black sheath, an oval hand guard and a handle wrapped tightly with a black silk. She looked it over briefly, and then held it out to Boba who received it with both hands. It was much lighter within its sheath than his practice saber without. "Thank you." Compared with the lacquer work of Tomoe's knife, it looked quite plain on the outside. He checked the blade approvingly. It looked a lot like Tomoe's knife, just longer and with slightly more bend. He had nothing to test it, but the gleaming steel looked murderously sharp. Definitely not plain on the inside. "I'll take good care of it." He promised.

"Be aware that people aren't used to see those on street anymore, let alone on a child. I'll show you some ways to keep it around unobtrusive later... maybe we have to remake the hilt." Tomoe smiled and took up two more bundles wrapped in white, structured silk. "Another thing to re-make." She giggled "A _girls'_ thing." She retrieved a slightly bent wooden stick of light color from the bag and unsheathed a medium length blade, but her main attention stayed on the fixings of the rough handle. "Splendid." She sheathed it again and had a look in the other bag. The contents clanked as she shook them out onto a cloth covering the mat. A lengthened U-shape and a couple of blackened nails fell out.

This was getting less and less impressive in Boba's view - until she aligned the parts "A mounting?" Tomoe nodded "...a very long mounting," he added.

She shrugged "The hilt was partially burned and I couldn't store it in the deposit box anyway. Everything else is here. That's the pommel."

Boba smiled "This thing's is going to be huge when you reassemble it."

Tomoe laughed "I'll have to shorten it in comparison with the original assembly to fit its new home... but not much." She crossed the living room with quick small steps and reached up on the timber set over the door, retrieving a long wooden staff, polished and darkened from frequent use. She whirled it around with a swiff that ended abruptly as she clutched it under her forearm as she came back to check the diameters. "Just a neat cut, a few holes and I'm upgraded as well." She marked the end with some scratches. "Granny will be delighted."

Boba gulped. He had an idea what his mom could do with a short blade. Transferred by a pole arm's lever, the multiplied effect would be murderous... "_Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."_ He commented.

Tomoe laughed, closed the box, pulled a set of clothing from the upper shelves and stored everything they wouldn't take with them. For the time being, she returned the staff, clearing the drawing room from the worst remains of her skirmish with the bounty hunter. The shadow that glided over the sunlit paper walls was Ukon's.

"Come in, please." Boba already understood the greeting and listened intently to the two women who set a dinner for two from the tray Ukon had brought with her. He picked up his name frequently and Ukon smiled and nodded at him. She poured hot water in their cups and excused herself with a bow on the door step. Boba wondered how somebody could buckle so much and look royally elegant at the same time. Then he realized that Tomoe had picked up the same style of movement once she changed clothing.

His mom said something that invited him to dig in, and it tasted as splendid as it looked. Lots of different tastes carefully arranged around a couple of slices of what seemed to be the bird they had hunted. It didn't look much, but together with the white stuff... rice - it filled up comfortably without overstuffing him.

"Ukon likes you a lot. She said she would dig up some of her grand-son's clothing for you." Tomoe poured some hot water in her rice bowl and swirled it clean before drinking up the contents, leaving the bowel squeaky clean. "She'll take care of things here until we are back."

Boba nodded and carefully settled his utensils on the tray as Tomoe had done. Ukon was back the next moment as if she had a sensor implanted for such things. She carried a bundle wrapped in thin paper and immediately started fussing over him with soft cooing sounds. 'Wait a moment... I'm not a baby anymore?!' In her opinion he wasn't even able to dress himself properly... and considering all the binders and folding she did, she was probably right. He extended his arms and plucked on the strange wing-like sleeves, wondering what to do with all the excess fabric. Ukon laughed and put an additional set of socks up his sleeve.

Ah, pockets! Boba smiled and she patted his cheek. Her hand was cool and dry, velvety from age. Nobody ever patted his cheek but Jaing, right before that fresher incident... and this felt... very different. "Thank you..." he picked through his memory "..._arigato,_ Ukon-san." She said something that sounded very pleased and left with the tray and their worn clothing.

Meanwhile, his mom had dressed in a fresh set of pants and tunic that looked sturdier than the last set. The woven fabric was soft and well worn. She finished tying her pant legs at the calves. "Let's go before the light's all gone." She helped Boba to tie the sandals to his sore feet, replaced her hat and picked up the freshly filled thermos flask. The handle from the door rafter transformed into a tall walking stick. They retrieved their raincoats and slipped out of the resort unhindered at dusk, looking no different of peasants returning late from the grooves in the hills. Lanterns were lit in the main house and most of the cottages. Suddenly, Boba didn't feel like leaving.

Tomoe borrowed some tools from her colleagues' garden shed on the way down to the river. Their boat was as they left it. Tomoe loosened the line and the stream took them back where they had come from. No throbbing engine sound of a space-ship broke the silence. No light of a speeder interrupted the velvety blue darkness of the sky, just the sound of a rich nature that prepared for another night in the marshes.

Chapter 9.2 – So this is Hell – Bando Gora (Day 14)

_Jango remembered now. Tomoe. She had stabbed him and he would get her back for that, for transporting him into this state of incoherence. He badly needed a frame of reference - her face was easily conjured. "Stop fighting me! You cannot stop our link, you can only make it more painful," he murmured as he began to caress her cheek._

_So close. Why does it hurt so much? Why can't I detach?_

_Take it out on her. Unleash the beasts you are holding down. Share your world of pain through your link._

_Her arms jerked out, as did her legs. Her face flamed and she squeezed her eyes tight in a futile attempt to avoid him. Shackles bound her to a rack, forcing her spread eagle. She stood trapped and helpless, totally at the mercy of the figures that rose from the shadows of his mind and shuffled towards them. _

_Pairs of black horns that pointed downwards, blue green eyes gleaming in the darkness from skull-like masks that covered mutated faces. "...and the insurgents will cooperate," they whispered. She struggled in panic, pulling the bounds tighter around her wrists and ankles... He could see she wanted to faint with fright so he slapped her awake. She would face what he had faced._

_"A very nice capture," one of the devilish figures spoke, "The Bando Gora have ways of weakening your mind and breaking your will ... Enjoy your spoils, Sir." Sickly sweet smoke of burning death sticks billowed around them._

_She was writhing and shying away from his fingertips. His eyes locked with hers and his nostrils flared as he breathed in her scent,__"Uh hu," he shook his head slowly.__There was no pulling away from him this time.__ He nibbled her throat lightly. She screamed in terror – or was __that__ his own voice? He listened intently while he continued his caress, licking and biting a path along her jaw._

_His next words were gentler, soothing, low whispers in her ear. Telling her he had compassion, he had a soul, that she would die... loved.__Her eyes were clenched closed and her heartbeat fluttered against his lips as he continued to test her resolve. __His first caress was almost tentative and featherlike. __He stopped and started again and again until she was shivering incoherently._

_When he released her reluctantly once more, she stared back at him, spellbound.__ She was the only one to see the change in his eyes.__ Eat her like it was eating him. Have at it until she couldn't take it anymore, rip her apart and turn her insides out to retrieve what was his ...while she watched. Then he would be free of her and she would rest in his memory together with all the other monsters._

_"You've come to the right place for a burial." From the clouds of smoke suddenly a large paw dropped on the top of her head, gloved fingers clenched in her hair and jerked back, baring her throat to him."Just like ol' times, you and me, man to man, face to face." Montross heavy set form and brutal face emerged in the frame __of reference__, his military crop gleaming like a silver halo "Only now we do this to the death! May the best man win." _

_"I am the best, always was."_

_"We'll see about that." _

_Jango stepped in, "Mine," he snarled at the fierce exhilaration that mating with her always produced in him. She was pushed against him and rubbed along his chest like a ragdoll, the bonds straining. Unable to stop the brutal assault__, __her face was contorted by the endeavors of his life-long adversary. Pain erupted in their bowel. A scream was torn out of their throats._

_He reached down and then smeared her blood over her cheeks like stripes of red war paint. Her breath was warm and wet on his face like the blood filling his mouth, chocking him. One hand slipped between their bodies, the palm pressing gently on her abdomen__.__He__ reached for the gleaming crescent of the knife that would put them out of their misery. _

_He started it, he would finish it. Still it continued, relentlessly._

_And then it was suddenly Vau's head that towered over her shoulder where Montross had leered at him a moment ago. Jango growled low. "You are a major pain in the ass, you know?"_

"Literally." Walon's drawl sounded so damn real it was instantly sobering. No weird dream could ever emulate that sound of metal scraping across brickwork.

_Jango hung there and shuddered incoherently, again oblivious to his surroundings. Fight to win and survive to... what exactly? The question never went away... and he felt at a loss. _

_Merciful darkness claimed him again._


End file.
